Irish Heart
by Cyren
Summary: Sequel to TATTOO YOUR SOUL The gang's fallen back to Ireland, following the tale of Boudica and the Thirteen. But what is Amon's connection to the Thirteen and Boudica?
1. Once Upon a Time

IRISH HEART 

The world still seemed to be in such a state of disarray.

And, yet, the countryside always seemed so fresh and pure. The air even tasted cleaner. The grass grew greener under the warm light, taller, too. Wild grasses swayed and seemed to wave across the open fields. Clouds were gathering in the distance, threatening yet another spring rain.

Even the horses felt refreshed from the long ride out amid the sea of grasses and grain. They nickered and pranced through the fields, taking light steps with every long stride. The pair trotted and danced over the soft, mellow grass, crunching them down with massive hooves. Mairi reached down and stroked the neck of her mount, letting the leather reins slip through her fingers as she did. The girl stroked her mare's chestnut fur, gleaming red under the afternoon light; the horse nickered, seemingly in thanks, before reaching out to snatch up a mouthful of thistle.

"Easy, Lassie. You'll have your fill later." Mairi gave the mare a playfully light slap on her shoulders.

Merric brought his own, dun steed up beside Mairi. "We're almost there." He extended an arm, pointing to the hillside. "It should be just beyond that hill."

"That's what you always say."

The man chuckled. "Always, dear sister."

Mairi fell silent, squeezing her legs firmly around the mare's girth and sitting deeply on the horse's bare back. The chestnut responded quickly by stepping up into a gliding trot, crossing the ground with an even pace. It was as smooth as butter, like riding on a cushion of air. The mare was beautifully built, long and lanky, with a wonderfully sweet looking face. She had a deep girth, but not too deep, just enough to give her good lungs. This animal was a keeper, a broodmare of wonderful quality. It was nice to have good friends in positions of power.

Still, such favors as the present of an excellent steed could not go unrewarded. Mairi hated the thought of having to act for the others, but she needed to. The girl took the reins in her right hand, bridging them over. With her left, Mairi checked the bandage on her arm, tightening the bindings and feeling the blood ebb out, squeezed out of the wound.

"Mairi!"

The girl couldn't stop her brother from catching up with her, but he passed her. His dun had already broken into a swift, flying gallop.

The girl glanced over her shoulder, to the hills behind them. Black clouds boiled and roiled up from somewhere beyond the mists. Smoke. The fields and the lands were burning, scorched by an unseen fire. They polluted the wind with the acrid sent of death and flame.

Merric grabbed the reins sharply, jerking them back fiercely. His dun balked, but swung around in a tight circle.

"MAIRI! COME ON!"

The girl seemed frozen in place, holding Lassie there, staring in the distance. The chestnut spooked, whinnying and dancing about, Mairi kept her there, gazing at the top of the hills in the distance. Even as Merric watched, they came. Hunters. Their horses poured over the hill, a wave of soldiers and armed hunters.

They had come, hunting her, hunting Mairi.

"MAIRI!"

Still, she did not turn. Mairi just gaped as the waves of men came after her. They had just run from them, just found safety in the lost and forgotten lands of the moors and open fields. Afterall, no one could be found out in the wilderness. And, still, they had found Mairi and Merric.

Merric kicked at his horse's ribcage, sending the dun lunging through the air, tearing at the wind with his hooves and rushing to Mairi.

"This can't be…" the girl whispered.

"IT IS!"

Merric snatched a hold of one of Mairi's reins, pulling at it and dragging her horse around, slapping the chestnut's flanks with a hard, audible smack. The mare burst ahead, leaping into action and into a flying gallop, soaring across the ground and the grasses. Merric whirled his dun around.

Horse hooves thundered behind them.

"They've found us!" the girl cried out, the wind whistling in her ears.

Merric spat. "Filthy sons of dogs."

And arrow screamed through the air, falling just before the chesnut. Mairi's mount shied, slamming to the right and running around the arrow as if it were a deadly viper. The girl was nearly tossed from Lassie's back as the mare danced around the thing.

"They're going to kill us!" Mairi shouted.

"No. We're so close, now."

xxxx

He rested.

Nycole kept a close vigil over Amon. The hunter had been beaten near to death by Solomon, tortured in the cruelest of ways. The empathy almost loathed touching him, but she had to. The girl had been at his side ever since they left Rome and the burnt out ruins of their old lives, tending to him with every waking moment.

Yes, for that was what the Vatican had become, Nycole realized. It represented everything that was them, the witches' lives as human beings. When they allowed the Vatican to fall to cinders, they allowed the houses of their souls to fall. No longer could any of those witches consider themselves to be part of the human world. They fell from that world and back, into the realm they were forced to. That dark realm housed their fate, their curious destiny, sealed in the hands of the Oracle, Kathain.

Amon stirred; Nycole jumped. The former hunter had been unconscious since the flight from Rome. His body had been beaten so brutally that the man had been out the entire trip. For Amon, that was a mixed blessing, keeping him from the pain and exquisite agony. The injured man murmured something and settled back to slumber. The empathy rose from her chair by the bed. She took a rag and soaked it in water before wiping the sweat from Amon's forehead.

His eyes opened. "Ny…"

"Shhh…. You need to rest," the empathy whispered in a hushed, soothing voice.

Amon tried to rise, but searing fire rose up in his lungs, sending him falling back, into a squishy sea of blankets and pillows. Although Amon only fell an inch or less, his body screamed in agony from the concussion. He gasped at the burning sensation, pulling the blankets from off of him, ignoring the aching in his arms. The hunter surveyed himself. The witches had cut away his shirt, taping his cracked ribs, stitched up his cuts and gashes, bandaged his wounds, and splinted the man's lower left arm. He couldn't even begin to imagine how his arm had been broken.

Sleep threatened to take him, exhausted from the motion.

Amon tried desperately to hold his eyes open, studying the warmly tan colored room, the many quilts piled around him. The furniture seemed old and weathered, made from pine or oak, perhaps, hand crafted. The lamp even looked ancient, like some sort of relic from the early 1900s. This was a well-loved, well used room. Robin slept, curled up like a kitten in the armchair by the corner.

"She's been with you the whole time," Nycole noted for him.

Amon blinked, but he wasn't surprised. Robin was a loyal, close friend of Amon's despite the distance he tried to keep between him and everyone else in the world. Robin would never leave any of her friends so injured and hurt. The teenager needed to see him through this, needed to see Amon alive and well. No one had the heart to move her when she fell asleep the night before.

Nycole's fingertips brushed his forehead, avoiding the gashes and bruises as she peered down at him. "Sleep, Amon."

His struggled to catch a good breath, coughing horribly. His lungs struggled against him, against the very man they resided within. Something liquid stuck in his throat. Amon gagged, fighting against the offending obstruction. Nycole helped him lean over slightly, turning his head to one side. Heat flushed off of the man's body. His torment racked up the empath's arms. She watched in horror as the man hacked up something scarlet. Blood. Amon eased back and grew still, his eyes slipping shut heavily.

'_Is he dying?'_

Worry ebbed within Nycole. She had gone to school at one point, training to be a field nurse for the US Army. It had been only fitting since her grandfather had served. Nycole, the empath that she was, wanted nothing more than to help others. Kristo, with his own field training, could help greatly, too. She needed to go tell the others about this development and this new insight.

Nycole approached the door slowly, pausing in the doorframe. "I'll be right back."

The girl turned to leave him, but Amon called out. "No."

"You're alright. You just need to rest, to get your strength back," Nycole chided him, like a mother to her child.

"Stay."

Nycole nodded slowly, moving back to his side and taking a seat in the old, creaking chair. He needed her, needed the presence of anyone. There was guilt, lingering somewhere within Amon, the same, seething, black guilt that had resided in Kathain when Nycole first met her. He blamed himself, hated himself. Nycole didn't need to be an empath to see that; any fool with eyes could see his self-hatred. Amon languished in the thought of what could be happening to Kathain at that very moment.

"It's alright, Amon," Nycole breathed. "You couldn't have stopped them, not with everything they did to you. You did what you had to do."

"She…" he swallowed.

Nycole touched a finger to his lips, gentling avoiding the split and swollen one. "Don't speak, Amon. You need to rest and let your body heal."

He nodded.

Nycole went to return to her book, some beaten up Anne Rice novel that had been tucked away in one of the rooms, as if it were a shameful thing to be caught reading the vampire books. However, Amon spoke, staring up at the ceiling.

"Say something."

Nycole furrowed her eyebrows. She reached out to him mind, tiptoeing around his memories and finding a rather touching one. His mother, when Amon was a tiny child. She spoke to him in soft, flowing Japanese whenever he was scared of hurt. When he went to sleep at night, or while sick, Amon's mother would talk to him until the boy drifted away. If Nycole hadn't seen him in his own mind's eye, the girl wouldn't have believed that Amon could have ever been a child, running to his mother's side for love and comfort. Her awakening must had seemed like a terrible betrayal.

"Alright." Nycole closed her book and placed it on the nightstand. "What would you like me to talk about? I could pour on for hours about how stupid the American government is and how much I need a good Irish Car Bomb, but can't order one without getting into trouble at the local pub." She giggled. "I mean, this is Ireland, for chrissakes! How do you deny a woman booze in Ireland? How do you deny an IRISH woman in Ireland?"

Amon cracked a weary smile, but that quickly faded. "Kathain…" It took actual strength and effort to form the words. "She told me about the Queen."

"Which one?" the empath whispered.

"I don't…."

Nycole shushed him. "It's alright." She looked to Robin in the corner. "Y'know, she reminds me of Mab, Queen of the Fairies, but I'm sure that wasn't the queen Kathain was talking about." The empath sighed. "Alright. I bet Kathain didn't tell you about Boudica." At the look on confusion on his face, Nycole went on. "Y'know, Irish queen, 60-ish AD. Decided to open a can of whoopass on the Romans?" Amon didn't answer. "Ok… well… don't expect me to start with that once upon a time shit."

And so, Nycole began to weave her web.

xxxx

The arrows were getting closer. The hunter's aim improved as they raced through the fields. One scratched down Merric's leg, opening up a new, fresh, crimson slash. It fell to the ground, shattered beneath the driving hooves of his dun mount.

Mairi leaned forward, perching over Lassie's withers and begging for more speed. The chestnut responded swiftly, pouring out everything she had in her massive heart. Mairi's breathes came with every long, opening stride as the horse galloped down the moor. The mare clawed at the ground, tearing up the earth in massive clods, thrown up behind them. The steed bolted faster, soaring over the ground, eating up the land its self.

Mairi glanced over her shoulder at their approaching doom.

"We're not going to make it!"

xxxx

I like hurling wrenches. I am a wrench-hurling machine. I know, I know. I'm complicating things greatly, but all will make sense. Er, just take good notes on the B plot of this epic story arc.


	2. Wanderlust

IRISH HEART 

"Merric!"

Mairi screamed his name, her voice cracking under the sheer, shrill shriek. Merric glanced over his shoulder just in time to watch the chestnut trip and start to fall. The mare threw out her forelegs in a desperate attempt to stay afoot, but the man saw the arrow jutting out of the horse's shoulder, fallen from the sky its self. The mare's legs crumpled underneath her, folding together as the horse plummeted to the ground. The mare's neck curled forward as their tremendous momentum carried the horse into a horrific roll.

How truly awful it is when horses go tumbling down. There is something so graceful and beautiful about them. Especially Lassie. The mare always looked so lithe, so delicately elegant, as though every muscle remained constantly primed for action. Even at a standstill, her ears pricked to the distant birds, the chestnut looked like she was in motion. Watching any horse, but especially one like Lassie go down seemed so much more terrible. Merric's eyes locked on those slender, thrashing copper legs of the mare as Mairi disappeared beneath the horse's massive body.

"MAIRI!"

Merric spun his mount around, kicking the dun sharply around the ribcage, bearing down upon the chestnut mare as she thrust out a foreleg before her. Mairi lay slumped over the mare's withers, as the horse tried to climb back to her feet. Lassie's legs folded up beneath her again.

Merric's eyes went past the fallen horse, to the riders bearing down upon them. They wore tattered furs and cloth. Red marks were painted across their horses. Swirling Speyerals Triskellians curled over the shoulders and hindquarters of the swiftly approaching horses. They carried long bows, curling horn from some strange elk. Their crimson banners wavered in the wind. His eyes went wide.

"Praetori!" The man called it out, more of a warning to Mairi.

The girl finally moved, glancing over her shoulder to their looming doom. The Praetori. Ally of the enemy. Enemy of all the Iceni. The Praetori were mercenaries, blood-thirsty warriors for hire. They would stop at nothing until their quarry was dead. And, right now, it seemed like Merric and Mairi were their prey.

Merric brought his mount up alongside the fallen mare, not stopping for anything. His hand shot out, grabbing at Mairi's pale, thin wrist and hauled her up, off the ground. In one, sudden motion, the man threw his companion back by her wrist, wrenching it sharply. Mairi screamed out, but landed on the dun's bare back just behind Merric. With his other hand and his legs, Merric guided his mount around in a grand, sweeping circle, turning back around, away from the Praetori. Mairi threw her body again his, snaking her arms around Merric's waist and holding tight.

They flew off, but the Praetori were closing in.

xxxx

He looked so peaceful.

Amon had drifted back into slumber sometime not too far in the beginning of Nycole's tale. The empath had kept speaking, waiting until she was absolutely sure Amon was completely out before stopping. Then, softly, silently. Nycole rose and left, for but a moment. The girl's stiff muscles thanked her as the telepath stole out of the room, easing the door shut behind her.

In the other room, Geoff jumped awake; Raven glanced up from his work. Nycole put a finger to her lips, warning them of Amon's sleeping. Geoff gave a slight nod and gestured for her to join them at the table.

Raven leaned closer into his work, grinding down herbs with a makeshift mortar and pestle. Nycole silently pondered what exactly the runemal was up to, but she knew better than to ask and have to sit through some long and drawn out herbalist explanation. Kristo always liked to toy with alchemy, but the soft-spoken warrior always had more cut-and-dry, one word answers when Nycole questioned his actions. With Raven, some days, it was best left to just wait and see the results.

He added some sort of oil to the mix; Nycole wrinkled her nose. "Stinky."

"Yeah…." Raven didn't really have any defense.

Geoff lit a cigarette, taking a long, hard drag, feeling the smoke sweetly move on his palette. "How is he?"

Nycole sighed, shrugging deeply. "Eh. Not good, at best. Looks like he's probably got some sort of an infection in his lungs. Who knows at this point?" The empath folded her arms on the table and rested her chin on her wrists, trying to ignore the stench of the mingling scent of cigarette smoke and the herbs of Raven. "He's been in and out of it. Drifting, y'know?" Nycole jerked back, away from the herbal brew as Raven added a powder with a small puff of smoke. "It's touch and go."

"I figured," the bartender noted. "Think we can move him anytime soon?"

"No."

Geoff sighed, shaking his head and leaning back in his chair. "We can't stay here forever." The long-haired man looked directly at Nycole. "This place isn't safe; we need to leave soon."

"I know…" she paused for a moment, solemnly. "I don't think he'll live through the next week, let alone a move."

"He has to," Raven piped up, without lifting his gaze from stirring the green, thick liquid in the glass bowl he'd effectively ruined by using as a mortar. "Amon's one the Thirteen. He has to survive this." The runemal tasted the mixture, made a face, and went on. "It's not a something we can allow."

"What's that?" Geoff finally breeched the subject.

Raven shrugged, adding another bit of powder to the brew before handing the mortar to Nycole. "Put some of this on his chest and throat." He placed a small, cloth pouch in her hands. "And this under his pillow."

"Still doesn't answer my question," the bartender snickered.

The runemal nodded, conceding. "The mixture should open up his lungs a bit, clear up whatever's stuck in there. The little baggy has some cut vervain, thyme, mugwort, a touch of dandelion from the front yard, and some whole hops."

"Where in the hell did you get hops from?" Nycole blinked, mildly startled, but slightly amused.

Raven shrugged. "Pub."

"Ah." The empath nodded while Geoff chuckled to himself. "So, what does it do?"

"Help his dreams."

xxxx

"We will never make it."

Merric's voice sounded hard, determined, as he kept on kicking his horse's sides, urging the dun on, faster and faster. They were moving fast, galloping with the wind, but that didn't seem fast enough at all. Mairi glanced over her shoulder and clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to scream a shrill shriek right into Merric's ear. The Praetori were so close, the girl could actually see the features on their faces.

The young man leaned forward, begging for more speed from the dun. "No, not doubled up like this." He bridged the reins in one hand, pulling his hunting knife from his boot. "We are too heavy."

"Merric, what are you doing?" Mairi worried.

Her brother didn't answer, exactly, as he slid from the back of his mount, landing with a roll and a scream from Mairi. "Saving your hide, sister."

xxxx

Cold.

Amon coughed from some stinking odor in his nostrils, waking up. Nycole stood over him, smoothing some sort of goo on his chest, avoiding the bruised areas and the taped, broken ribs. At first, the air burnt at his lungs. Then, it chilled, almost refreshingly so after hours of raging fever. The empath smiled at Amon, leaning close to put some of it on his throat.

Unbeknownst to Amon, Nycole slipped her hand down, tucking the sachet under his pillow, giving it a slight squeeze to let loose some of the scent of the herbs. "Sorry I woke you up."

He could barely move, but Amon could speak. "It's alright."

"What were you dreaming of?" the telepath inquired softly, before draping a blanket over Robin and returning to her chair at the side of Amon's sick bed.

"How did you know I was…?"

Nycole grinned, tapping her index finger against her temple sarcastically. "Empath/telepath, remember?"

Amon tried to nod slightly. "I was dreaming your story." His head turned slightly, looking to the crack in the curtains of the window, seeing subtle, emerald, like the color of Robin's eyes, just outside. "Mairi and Merric. I can almost picture them."

"I'd imagine." Nycole sat back. "So, do you want me to go on?"

"Of course…."

xxxx

"MERRIC!"

"Do not stop." He didn't look back. "Keep riding, Mairi. Just keeping riding."

Merric stretched out his muscles cracking his joints and gripping the handle to his hunting knife. He stood there, waiting, watching without moving at the Praetori bore down upon him. The horses drew closer, closer, thundering towards him with flashes of metal from well-shod hooves. The Praetori's steeds had all the benefits of such a wealthy financial backer, threatening to trample the single Iceni in a heartbeat, crushing him beneath thousands of pounds of horseflesh.

Merric waited.

They were almost upon him; he could smell the creatures on the wind, their sweat and even the mellow, warmth of their morning oats and hay.

"ICENI HOUND!"

Merric glared, feeling his rage at the thought of all the Praetori had done to his people, waiting, building up his own anger and pure hatred, readying to battle. And, as the leader of the Praetori bore down upon him, Merric unleashed hell. The young, Iceni man leapt up, springing on the balls of his feet and jumping towards the Praetori. His blade sliced through flesh with a gut-wrenching crunch of bone and sinew.

Blood spilt upon him, warm and disturbing, but Merric welcomed it. The Praetori had been roaming the lands of the Iceni for the last ten years. The Praetori killed his mother, his father, his grandmother. Merric and Mairi had only survived by the skin of their teeth, fleeing for lands unseen and unknown. The Praetori drove the pair, constantly hunting them down, for what reasons, he could not be sure.

The dead Praetori fell from his horse's back, Merric standing atop him.

The others swirled around gathering around the man. However, to the Iceni's horror, half of these Praetori dogs split off from the main ground, continuing down the trail of hoof prints left from Merric's abandoned steed. They were after Mairi, hunting her down even at the cost of possibly losing this Iceni warrior.

"Mairi…" he breathed.

One of the Praetori barked something at Merric in their strange tongue, the language of the enemy, something Merric couldn't understand. He didn't look up, feeling a perfectly evil grin curling across his lips. His gray eyes twinkled, sparkling with a malicious sort of luster that hadn't been seen in Merric in ages.

"I will not submit."

The world stopped, freezing in a dark pang. The hummingbird's wings seemed to even slow to nothingness. Merric hated that feeling, that sluggishly that seemed to sprawl across the world in those terrible moments of darkness, seething within himself. He shut his eyes, tight, feeling something evil and unnatural crawling up and down his spine, tickling his shoulder blades.

"Die, Praetori scum."

xxxx

"Damn you!"

Mairi swore as the Praetori drew up on the heels of Merric's dun mount. Her steed whinnied sharply, as if in its own terror. His head shot up, held high at an awkward angle, eyes rolled back to watch the quickly rushing horses of the Praetori, swooping up behind him. He balked, his mouth hanging open with a bit of slobber. His breathing sounded hard and labored, heavy.

"Merric…"

The girl squeezed harder around the dun's girth.

She was so very close. All she had to do was make it home to Dun Aengus, to the cliffside fortress and the safety of the seemingly impenetrable walls. The Praetori had oft attacked, but never entered the fortress and city. It was safe. There, she could rally the Iceni, the horsemen or her people, and turn on those sons of whores that were the mercenaries.

She only prayed it would be in time to save Merric.

xxxx

Yeah, yeah, short. I know. Sorry. I'm trying to crack this out and the Save-My-Roommate Fund.


	3. Debt

IRISH HEART 

"And, so Mairi ran for the castle."

Robin eased awake, surveying the room around her. Amon lay peacefully in the bed, just watching as Nycole spoke to him in hushed whispers, her voice only barely audible from where the Craft user sat.

She had been so worried about Amon for so long. The man had been beaten so utterly badly, almost to death, it seemed. On the long trip from Italy to Dublin, they almost lost him at least twice. Once, during the flight by foot from the burning out Vatican, Amon's breathing stopped. It had taken careful CPR, tender and as gentle as could be, to bring him back. The second time happened on the long drive through France. His heart actually stopped that time, growing horribly still and silent within his chest. It took the combined efforts of Geoff and Raven, pouring their energy into Amon, and Nycole to guide it, to bring the former hunter back from his arrest. And, yet, the entire trip to Ireland, to Dublin, Robin watched with concern and fear that she would lose him at any moment.

And, yet, somehow, Amon seemed to suffer on, hanging on to life with everything he had. Even then, Robin could see the agony behind his gray, weathered eyes. The former hunter seemed so pale, so weak, unlike the teenager had ever seen Amon before. This faded, feverish and fragile seeming Amon was the pure antithesis of all Robin knew to be of him.

Nycole, oddly enough, spoke to him so tenderly, as if reading to a child. And Amon seemed to be enjoying her tale, if the man ever enjoyed anything fully.

"Go on."

Nycole shook her head. "No. You need some rest. I'll go get something for your to eat."

Amon didn't really answer. He just settled back, letting his eyelids slip shut, lulling in and out of slumber. The man looked so calm and peaceful. Robin didn't have the heart to wake him. Instead, the teenager just climbed out of the chair slowly, unfolding herself and tiptoeing out of the room.

She never saw Amon crack open an eye to watch her warmly as she left.

He slipped back to sleep, thinking of the empath's tale.

It seemed so real… so very close…

xxxx

There!

Dun Aengus. Mairi's heart leapt at the sight of those old stone walls, reaching up at the highest point of Inish Mor, the very largest of the Aran Islands. It stood, perched as it always had been, high stop the sheer cliffs of the island. Its outermost wall came alive with action as _her_ arches scrambled about, taking their aim.

"No…"

Mairi gaped as a volley of arrows were let loose from the walls of the fortress, shooting up from the height of those grey, ancient stones, soaring into the air. It was a dark cloud, a flock of sharp, pointing things, screaming as they flew. A singular arrow, actually whistled as it flew ahead of the others, a signal bolt. The arrows flew up, slowing at the top of their arch, before turning earthward, coming down swiftly. A rain of arrows came down just behind Mairi and the bolting dun.

But it did not stop the Praetori. They were vengeful mercenaries who would stop at nothing until they had their mark, dead or alive. They were loyal to their employer until the death or payment and completion of their mission. Mairi had to both admire and hate them at the same time.

"Damn it!"

Mairi threw her weight to the right, hauling the dun hard by the bit to avoid a stray arrow as it landed no more than a few feet away. The girl glanced over her shoulder as she righted the horse and continued on her way. Perhaps thirty of the Praetori had fallen, but only maybe ten or eleven were actually dead. The others, another twenty or thirty, kept right on her tail.

It didn't matter; Mairi was too close to Dun Aengus.

An arrow shot through her leg. The girl let out a scream of pure agony, slumping over the shoulders of the dun for a moment. Her hand shot out, pushing against the horse's rising and falling withers, forcing herself up.

Dun Aengus was so very close.

The massive gates swung open, receiving her. Mairi let the dun do the rest, galloping on, right through the gates, down a wide, long tunnel under the outermost wall and into city of Dun Aegnus. Warriors of the Iceni rushed to her side, while others slammer the inner and outer gates to the tunnel shut, bolting them from the inside with massive tree timbers. Mairi let herself fall from the dun's back and into the waiting arms of one of the warriors.

"I need to see HER," the injured girl growled.

No one would dare argue.

xxxx

His head swam.

"Mairi…"

Merric hated that feeling. Sometimes, ok, more than a few times, he had moments when the world seemed to fade away and everything grew blurry and bleary. His mind would traipse away from the real world, it felt, and vanish from existence all together.

"What have I done this time?"

Where was he?

Merric glanced around. He seemed to be kneeling on his feet, in the middle of the moors somewhere, out in the green grasses of the Iceni. Where exactly? Who could tell. The moors all looked the same, verdant and lush. It was difficult to tell precisely which one when he was coherent. Incoherent, it was almost impossible to even get a decent idea of where he was. Merric struggled to remember.

Something stung at his arm. Merric let out a hiss from the searing pain of a deep gash on his left forearm. The Iceni wondered how in the devil he'd gotten that wound, but ignored the confusion for more important matters.

He gave a better look, rubbing the cloudiness from his vision as Merric caught sight of the warriors and horses, sprawled out, dead, upon the ground. Not a creature moved. Not even birds. In fact, now that Merric looked, a few birds had fallen among the men and their steeds. Merric saw the banner of the Praetori, with its curling Triskellian.

"What did I do…?" the young man stiffened at the sight of such death. "Oh, Gods…." The Iceni climbed to his feet. "Mairi…."

The man started to hunt for her, for his lost sister, but there was nothing. There was but miles of stillness. His sister was nowhere to be seen, lost perhaps to the very death that swallowed up those Praetori bastards. His heart skipped a beat, wondering if, perhaps, this time, he had finally accidentally ended Mairi's life by his own, dark curse.

Even now, a single, black feather fell upon the ground before him.

xxxx

Brett studied the map carefully.

They didn't exactly have a specific location. Nor did they really have coordinates. Instead, Brett had a string of what seemed like nonsensical codewords and puzzles. Solomon had been exceptionally careful with hiding Kathain, keeping the location a secret, even from their own men and women.

He sighed heavily. "It's hopeless."

It was hopeless. The world seemed so very large, and Brett suddenly felt so very small and lost. Kathain was out there, somewhere, Solomon's prisoner. The fire elemental couldn't even imagine what was happening to her at that moment. All he could do was continue to thumb through the papers they printed out from the Vatican office and try to make some sense of it. The papers were plasters with miles and miles of binary. It would take ages to decode that, and even longer to sort of the encryption. Brett shook his head running his fingers though his ebony hair.

"I don't know what to do anymore."

Kathain was lost, lost to them.

xxxx

One of the burlier men took up Mairi, not letting her place a bit of weight on her injured leg. He scooped the girl up in his muscular arms and whisked her away, deep into the center of the compound, the fortress that was Dun Aengus. She kept her eyes ahead, watching as they ran deeper and deeper into the center of city. They passed through a second set of massive gates in a second wall. At the next and last wall, the guards nodded, waving Mairi through and into the center of the fortress.

The center most part of those three, concentric circles was actually very small. It consisted of a small, wooden lodge, and some green land, precariously settled at the top of the massive cliff. In the center, grew a tall oak, surrounded by thistle and a few, yellow wildflowers that Mairi didn't know the name to.

And, there, at the edge of the cliff, stood the other.

She turned to face Mairi. Her face was rounded, with a pert, pointed nose. Long, red hair, running down her back and almost to her bum, flowed with various braids. Marks of her own kills in battle. This woman was scarred by life, wrapped in tartan with fur slung over her shoulder. A spear rested gently in her arms.

"Mairi, it has been too long," the woman greeted. "Where is your brother, Merric?"

"Boudica, I need your help."

xxxx

How far?

Merric didn't know. All he could do was follow the tracks of hoof prints, stumbling across the moors, and find out where exactly they led. The young Iceni had yet to find his sister, anywhere among the dead. Merric had to pray, to hope against hope that, if he followed those tracks he would find Mairi. Merric continued on, staggering over the fields and lush grasses.

Those terrible, evil things coming from his back, those wings, they brushed against the grass. Somehow, they tickled him against the flowers and blades of grass. Merric hated them and loathed those ebony wings, the marks of his curse. Merric folded his arms tight across his chest. Instinctively, the wings curled closer around his body.

"Mairi… please be safe."

xxxx

"DRIVE THEM BACK!"

It was amazing to see Boudica in action again, her armor gleaming in the light, flashing silver and steel. Mairi felt safe again at the queen's side, fighting alongside her. The pair stood along the outermost wall, fighting with Boudica's own men, firing off arrow after arrow at the Praetori. The horsemen swirled around the fortress for an hour or two, circling but eventually retreating under the hail of arrows from the Iceni.

A cheer went up in Dun Aengus when the Praetori turned away.

Then, there was nothingness. Just the vast emptiness of the moors out, around the fortress. Boudica stood there, her emerald eyes gazing out over the rolling hills with Mairi and the evening patrol as dusk settled.

"Where is he?" Mairi worried, fretfully.

Boudica frowned. "The more important question is what are you doing out here?"

The girl stopped. "They said you needed me. They said you were calling your favor back." The elder woman furrowed her eyebrows, obviously confused at what the girl tried to tell her. "They said you asked for me specifically by name."

"I did no such thing," the queen replied.

Mairi blinked. "Where is Merric?"

xxxx

I promise, I will explain everything later.


	4. Winter Ways

IRISH HEART 

"When Irish eyes are smiling…."

Sakaki raised a curious eyebrow. He hadn't heard Nycole sing in a long time, ages perhaps. The man could barely remember the last time he'd actually heard the empath sing. Her voice sounded so beautiful, haunting almost, in it's smooth soprano, lilting with her energy. The song its self seemed to carry her hope and dreams for the future, for Amon and her kin.

"Sure 'tis like the morn in spring." The girl gave a sidestep, dancing slightly in the kitchen. "In the lilt of Irish laughter, you can hear the angels sing."

Geoff smirked as he heard the lyrics from his place on the sofa, attempting to watch a Manchester United game on the tiny television. Nycole always had a sick sense of humor to her. One day, while working in a pet store and gathering feeder fish for a customer, the bartender had even caught the telepath singing the jingle from the Goldfish crackers commercial.

Nycole paused, her lips pursing into a frown of chagrin, stopping in her song and her cooking. "Well… damn."

"What?" Bear inquired.

The telepath shrugged slightly. "It's nothing. I… I just can't seem to remember any of the other lines to that song. Just something about them 'stealing your heart away.'" She smiled and stirred the steaming broth on the stove. "It's like a memory from a dream."

"Aren't all things?"

xxxx

Something stirred, out on the moor.

From the pinnacle of Dun Aengus, all eyes stared out, training their focus on the dark figure, moving this way and that staggering like a drunkard, swaying with every bit of motion. Dusk had already fallen. Under the pale light of a half-moon, none of the Iceni could see whether or not this approaching creature was friend or foe. All they could see was the motion and the slight outline of a bulky form. It didn't make any sense. It was large and massive in size, but didn't seem to be a horse or cow.

Boudica loathed this feeling, being forced to wait and see when the figure drew close. For all she knew, this creature could have been a Praetori decoy.

"Stay sharp," the queen of the Iceni ordered.

The figure was almost upon them, perhaps two hundred meters away. Boudica took up a bow, bent wood and curving shape. Her slender, freckled hand caught an arrow from the cache, one wrapped and bound in cloth, soaked in oil. The warrior tipped the arrow in a flaming torch, lighting the cloth bindings. She drew back, feeling the tension of the bowstring rising up her arm. Muscle and string became out, taught machine. Smoothly, elegantly, Boudica let fly.

All eyes followed the arrow as it streaked through the heavens, a bolt of fire trailing up and into the sky. The arrow arched downward, towards the impossibly large and bulky form in the moor. The bolt slid down, landing the ground neatly.

The flames illuminated the creature, tall, with black wings.

"RIDERS!"

xxxx

Fingertips brushed Amon's face.

He jumped; Nycole stood over him. "Hey."

"Nycole?"

The empath held a bowl of something steaming. She set it gently on the night table with a slight rattle from the spoon. Amon's nostrils caught the warm scent of a broth. Chicken broth, to be precise. Nycole took the spoon and gave the liquid another quick stir.

"Think you could manage to eat something?" the girl asked softly.

"I could." Nycole nodded, giving a quick test of the broth to make sure it wasn't too hot; Amon watched with only mild interest. "Is it true?"

"Is what true?"

The man thought for a moment, wondering the perfect way to ask. "Is the story true?"

Nycole shrugged. "Couldn't tell you."

Amon settled back in after that mild, light lunch, as Nycole continued with the tale.

xxxx

The Iceni Riders were a fierce band, almost rivaling the pure, animalistic rage and energy of the Praetori. The Praetori had been taught by their general financial backer, given saddles and moving stiffly across the land. The Iceni, however, rode bareback, the legs hugging the rolling, tucking muscles of their mounts, feeling every twinge and subtle shift of weight. The Iceni had the advantage of added maneuverability, but, with their foreign saddles, the Praetori were harder to knock from off their horses.

The Iceni figured ways around this. The bow and the spear had always been trusted weapons of the warriors, carried at close. The bows, shaped from wood boated in from far off lands, was pressed and curved, cured for months until the perfect curve formed. If the box was even a hairsbreadth off, they were discarded, burnt and their ashes sprinkled over the farmlands. The spears were treated with the same regard. If the metal wasn't pure enough or the lance head formed with a minor discrepancy, the weapon was shattered. Imperfection of craft was not tolerated. And, thus, they had become discriminating warriors of long ranged and throwing weapons.

But the true heart of the Iceni warrior lay in their knives. Every man, woman, and child of their people now carried them. They were sharp blades, no more than 12 to 15 inches long from tip to end of hilt. Everyday, the warriors checked the blades, sharpening them to a razor's edge, ever ready for a raid from the Praetori. At first, only the warriors did this, carrying knives and honing them as per daily tradition and ritual. However, in those trying days, women and children bore blades, mothers taking a whetstone to the small, 6 inch knives of their own sons and daughters out of fear and paranoia.

It had not always been this way. There had been days when the Praetori didn't exist. The Iceni lived in peace with little more concern than that in regards to the weather, the next good hunt, and the arrival of the fowl in the spring for falconry. Boudica could remember such times fondly, but they were ages past, when things were simpler. She lived alongside her husband, ruling over the Iceni and the people of Inish Mor.

However, once her king died, they came. Foreigners. They invaded the Aran Islands, pilfering the lands for everything they could possibly want. The foreigners pillaged, burnt, and raped, like something from a distant fireside tale for the children. They killed whole families and destroyed entire villages and towns. The foreigners came when Boudica took the throne in her king's place. And, yet, the woman warrior would not stand for this; she could not allow her people to suffer at the hands of those godless sons of pigs that were the foreign devils. Boudica took up arms.

At first, it had been easy to fend off the foreigners. Many of the villagers had fled to the larger fortresses of Inish Mor. Dun Aengus's population swelled, tripling within that first year along. Not many people remained out in the farms on the more, save the ones clustered tightly about the stone fortresses. Each city just grew more vigilant, always keeping at least three or four pairs of eyes gazing out on the grassy expanses, searching for approaching foreign forces.

Then, the Praetori emerged.

Even now, as the Riders assembled, taking to their mounts and cantering out from the citadel of Dun Aengus, Boudica couldn't be sure the approaching thing wasn't some sort of Praetori trick or attack. The gates slammed shut with a heavy thump behind the Riders as per the Iceni queen's orders. Guards assembled along the outer flanks of the stonewall, sinking between the turrets and drawing back their bows with eerie creaks of wood.

Boudica had to be sure.

She led the Riders; the woman had to. It was the place of the rightful ruler of the Iceni to fight alongside their people, to never allow Iceni to go into a battle he- or she, in Boudica's case- would not enter themselves. And, so, the queen charged out, ahead of the other warriors on her dark, liver bay, drafter-type horse, her sprear in one hand and the hunter green standard of people in the other.

Boudica gave a quick glance over her shoulder as they went. The Riders looked so weak, but the woman knew better than to discredit them. When the Praetori came, they took or killed just about every man between the ages of fifteen and fifty, leaving but boys and elders to protect the people and what was left of Iceni. Merric was among the remaining men, and even his face still held the failing remnants of childhood innocence and purity.

"Flanking!"

The woman didn't need to look over her shoulder. The changing, shifting direction of hoof beats gave her signal to the altering formation of the Riders behind her, readying themselves for the possibility of battle. Still, they approaching, circling and swirling around the dark figure.

Boudica pulled up her dark steed before the shadowy form, pointing her lance down at it. "Speak if you be friend."

"I am…"

Merric's voice. It had been so very long since Boudica had heard him. He sounded so sad and distant, but the queen's heart leapt at the thought of his continued life. She felt like jumping right off her mount and hugging him, embracing him right in front of the other riders. Now that she looked, Boudica could tell that the bulk of his form came not from cloaks or armor, but from those black wings of his, sticking out of his back awkwardly, like a fledgling hawk.

"Merric…" Boudica shook off her shock and happiness. "Are you injured?"

"Slightly." Merric lifted his head into the pale moonlight, bathing his features in that blue light and grimacing a bit. "But a scratch. Mairi?"

"Safe, at Dun Aengus."

Merric's face grew ashen. "And us?"

"What?" Boudica started, feeling fear ebb and rise within her throat.

"It's too late…" Merric lamented.

Boudica spurred her horse around, glancing to the hilltops just as the shadows formed, rising atop each rolling landmass. Riders. Thousands of them. Boudica gasped as their horses bobbed heads and pawed at the earth, ready and practically excited for battle, to feel the bodies fallen beneath their thrashing, driving hooves. They stood in long, silent lines, circling around the Iceni. It was a trap, one the queen should have seen sooner.

Her eyes flew up to what seemed like the general, to the banner fluttering in the breeze.

"PRAETORI!"

xxxx

Um… yeah.


	5. Fall of Grace

IRISH HEART 

"PRAETORI!"

Merric's heart fell. After all that, he'd just led the remaining Praetori right to their quarry, to the very heart of the Iceni, their queen. He had drawn Boudica out, into the openness of the moors, were there was nothing to protect her and Dun Aengus had to be close to a half mile of hard riding away, at least. The archers of the Iceni would only just barely be able to reach the edges of the Praetori herd. Merric had allowed himself to be bait for Boudica, putting the queen and his sister in such jeopardy.

"Gods…"

The Praetori stood silent, not moving, not flinching.

Boudica threw down her banner and drew her bow, pulling back on the string. "Bows at the ready. Draw."

The warriors listened to their queen, following the Iceni woman to the very end. They were a proud people, the Iceni, having survived hundreds of years on the Aran Islands as their strongholds and thousands of years on the mainlands. The foreigners had driven the Iceni back to the grand, ancient citadels of the Arans, of their capital on Inish Mor, but the spirit of the Iceni could not be vanquished. These people, they would survive. Their way of life would carry on, even if they, themselves, did not. And they would protect their beloved Boudica with their very flesh, blood, and life.

The crimson banners of the Praetori fluttered in the breeze, a dark, almost black in the night. The Triskellian seemed to glow, it contrasted so sharply in white against that almost ebony field of cloth. It became an evil thing, a living, vile, moving thing. Boudica wanted nothing more than to see every Praetori banner and all those who fought under them burnt to nothing more than cinders.

"Hold." Boudica waited.

The Praetori were biding their time, knowing the dark fears their very presence sent rippling through the Iceni Riders. They waited, letting out seething, black waves of pure hatred to their prey. Blood would be spilt that night. Boudica whispered a prayer to the nameless, faceless gods of the earth, sky, and waters of Inish Mor.

"Steel yourselves."

The Praetori's general shouted something in harsh tones, in a language both foreign and ugly to Boudica. The Praetori mercenaries betrayed their heritage, taking on that disgusting tongue of the invaders. Finally, the horde started in motion, horses stepping forward. Then, the ranks of Praetori spurred their mounts on, urging them into a flying gallop, swooping down the hills.

Boudica pulled back harder on the bow, if that were even possible, taking her aim. "Hold."

They had to wait, to save their arrows. But the Praetori were closing, closing fast. And, yet, Boudica seemed to refuse to give the order to let fly. The woman licked her lips with anticipation, tasting the salt of her own, nervous sweat as the wave of Praetori came down, off the ridges and rolling crests of the moor.

"Hold."

The Praetori were almost upon them.

xxxx

"He's so weak."

Robin held her knees up close to her chest, sitting on the bench just outside the house. It was actually more of a flat, situated in the outskirts of Dublin. However, the owner had been a good, archeology major friend of Kathain's, and out of the country on a dig. A quick phone call secured the band of witches the flat for as long as they needed it. Or, at least, it secured the flat for Nycole, who had the pleasure of meeting this friend of Kathain's perhaps a handful of times. Despite the fact that they had full reign of both the upstairs and vacant downstairs apartments to the flat, it felt so small and cramped to the teenager.

Maybe, it was the overwhelming sorrow and gloom lingering over them. Robin herself had already succumbed to it, fearing for Amon's life, sitting at his bedside close to twenty four hours a day. The others wandered about the flat in a daze, horrified that they had let Kathain slip through their fingers, just missing the opportunity to save her from Solomon. And Nycole's tale? Robin couldn't bear to hear anymore of it, despite how the story seemed to sooth Amon's aching soul.

Robin didn't want to hear anymore about killing, about violence and death. The teenager didn't want to know about these wars, this bloodshed. She wanted to go back to a day where she merely hunted witches, working alongside Amon and putting their quarry in a "humane" containment. But, no, those days could never be. Even when Amon was back to normal, the girl knew she'd have to tell him of the murder she committed, unsure of how the former hunter would react, how he might punish or scorn her.

It was the curse to Robin's very existence. She was a witch, yes, but she a conscience. The Craft user had a moral code that could not be ignored, and Robin had broken that code by killing that soldier with her own hands. It hadn't even been a quick, clean, humane kill. No. Robin brutally stabbed the soldier, felt the blood on her hands. They still seemed stained a pale scarlet, tainted by her crime.

"Sucks, doesn't it?" Sakaki spoke.

The girl hadn't even heard him approaching from the house; she squeezed her hands together self-consciously. "No."

"Robin, I know what happened in St. Peters. I know what you did."

"Brett told you?" Robin sounded worried.

"Yes."

The girl lifted emerald eyes to her friend, seeing the strangely smiling face of Sakaki. "I have committed a mortal sin."

"But you did it to save thousands, maybe millions of people, Robin," Haruto argued back.

"But we haven't actually." Robin looked away. "We didn't even rescue Kathain. Her gifts, her powers are still in Zaizen's hands." She mentally cursed herself. "We've failed both Kathain and the world."

"No. Kathain would have wanted us to try and try alone. We did that." The man thought of Brett, still scouring the lines of binary. "We're still doing that."

Robin thought. It was true. However, Amon had mentally conditioned her from both the STN-J and even in their hide-outs after the Factory incident that she was never to use her Craft, that she should never even harm another person. Robin had broken Amon's own laws and murdered a man in cold blood. But she had to do it. The girl had no other choice. If she hadn't killed that soldier, Brett would have been killed and they would never have gotten the hard copy files to even attempt to find Kathain.

But Robin vowed to herself, right then and there, sitting along the busy street of that Dublin suburb, to never- NEVER- kill another human being, ever, so long as she lived.

"I suppose you're right."

xxxx

"FLY!"

The arrows shot out from the Iceni, radiating outwards at the Praetori. Boudica was rewarded with her patience at the screams of the enemy riders as they fell under the onslaught of the Iceni. The queen saved her arrow for but a moment.

"What are you waiting for?" Merric demanded.

Boudica let out a soft breath, releasing the arrow as she loosed the word from her lips. "Perfection."

Her arrow screamed through the air, carrying with it a small, pewter medallion, marked with her own symbol, the charging horse. It was the symbol of the Iceni and their royalty. The arrow streaked through the air, darting between warriors before embedding its self deep within the throat of the Praetori general. A slight cracked sound, high pitched and awkward was forced out as the man tumbled from his horse. The general fell, but the Praetori continued on.

Boudica closed her eyes, hating the thought of the kill. These Praetori, while they were vile, loathsome creatures, traitors to their ancient heritage and roots, were family. The Praetori were Iceni, of blood and birth, but not of life. They had turned their backs on the ways of their people in favor of the foreigners and their new technology, new customs. Boudica slew her own people whenever she let loose a bolt or swung her blades at the hounds of the Praetori. This general, now, was marked. If he returned to the enemy, to those foreigners, or if someone were to find the body, they would know the Praetori had fallen by the queen's own hand.

Boudica took up her standard again, ripping away the banner and tucking it in her bel, revealing the curving spearhead. "Merric, if you wish continue on in life, I suggest you climb aboard."

The young man did as he was told, scrambled atop Boudica's dark, brown horse, resting his hands lightly on her curving hips. His wings fluttered out, as if readying for flight as a deep fear brewed within. It didn't matter. Merric would never leave Boudica on that battlefield. And, even if he were capable of such a thing, Merric doubted his wings could even carry him; the man had yet to push his luck.

"DRAW ARMS!" Boudica shouted harshly.

Merric leaned closed, whispering into the woman's ear. "Good to see you again."

"Yes, if we live to see morning."

xxxx

"Good."

Brett whispered the words, watching Robin like a hawk from the house. He had seen her power, the ancient glory of the Arcanum, deep beneath the Vatican. The fire elemental now knew the power lurking within the girl's heart. And, now, she seemed to possess the same finesse he did over those burning, blue flames of hers.

The girl had stolen out, into the backyard that night. Brett and Kristo heard her, waking from their light slumber and moving together, silently, to the window. They stared as Robin summoned up the fire from deep within her heart, from her anger and sorrow, burning a dark, blue, intense flame. The girl seemed to dance and play among the fire of her emotions, swirling through her Craft, lost in a song.

"She's going to break a lot of hearts someday," Brett teased.

Kristo shifted back, slipping away and into the abyss.

Robin had changed sometime in the last few days. She held a renewed vigor for her training, but only in secret. The girl seemed to fear her Craft, yet respect it at the same time. The teenager seemed to know that something far larger than she was coming, ever looming on the horizon, ever swelling and growing like a great tidal wave. They all knew it was coming. It was if the young girl had finally accepted this fact, that she played a grand part in the play that is life, the universe and everything.

Kirsto respected this.

"Soon, Robin."

xxxx

The great wave that was the Praetori crashed down upon the ranks of the Iceni Riders, but the Riders held true. That band of rebels held their ground, digging in and striking out. Boudica stabbed and slashed, cutting through the air and Praetori traitors alike with her spear. All Merric could do was hold on for dear life.

My, how the situation had turned around.

"DRIVE THE BEASTS BACK!" Boudica growled rashly.

The Iceni spurred their horses on, driving forward into the ranks of the Praetori. It was a hopeless battle. The bastards outnumbered the Iceni and their queen. For every traitor Boudica and her men fell, three took their place. There was no hope to this battle, especially as man after man of the Iceni dropped like stones to the soft loam of the moor.

"BREAK THROUGH THEM!"

Boudica led the charge, pushing her way through the Praetori, swinging her spear the entire time. Her men followed, trusting in their leader and her strategies. They had to make it back to Dun Aengus. Only there, behind the centuries old stone walls could the Iceni hold any hope of defeating this horde, this army of Praetori.

"FOLLOW!"

xxxx

Amon could almost taste the battle. The sweet scent of grass, trod on by those massive, cold-blood type horses, seemed so familiar, so near. The world had become a smaller, closer space, feeling like a memory. The man just lingered on, listening and hanging upon every word Nycole said.

He found himself drifting off, back to a time and place forgotten by most men.

Amon wondered how exactly Nycole knew to tell him that particular story. But, then again, Amon, just like all the others, had learned better than to question the empath and her motives.

All he could do was sit, listen, and see where the story trailed.

xxxx

Nycole tells good stories, apparently. God, I hate the end of the quarter…. And my car. So, I keep getting more writing done because my car won't let me drive anywhere. Sucks to be me- ROCKS TO BE YOU!


	6. Heart Strings

IRISH HEART 

"RIDE!"

They did. No fool would ignore that order with the Praetori hot on their heels. All of the Iceni moved, one solid mass, lunging and flowing, splitting through their enemies, charging. Horses whinnied and screamed out with piercing whistles as the Iceni fled, breaking the ranks of the Praetori and hurrying out and away.

The Praetori followed.

The Praetori were dogs of war. They had come for Boudica, used Merric and Mairi as their bate for the Iceni queen. They would not stop until all the Iceni were dead and Boudica was in their hands, hauled back to the Praetori stronghold.

They rushed away, galloping.

Merric's feathers fluttered on the wind. He felt that old hungering, lingering in him, seething and roiling. Those terrible wings twitched once they felt the air pass over and under those dark feathers. They fluffed out, attempting to catch the breeze flowing from the flying horse.

Oft had the man wondered if those terrible wings would actually carry his weight, but he had never been tempted enough to try. No, Merric knew from the ancient tales and legends of his people that the gods often liked to play tricks and jokes on mortals to test them. The young Iceni had often pondered, in secret, away from Mairi's prying questions, if this was the gods' way of testing Merric, seeing if he was truly a worthy warrior in their eyes. The man had contemplated the meaning of those inky, black feathers, gleaming in the moonlight.

"I d'nay a suppose those are any good for flying?" Boudica called over her shoulder, over the rolling thunder of horse hooves, stampeding now, at this point.

Merric shook his head. "I could not tell you."

Somewhere, in the distance, torches flickered, like little stars or diamonds in the dark. They moved about, scurrying in a line, perhaps eighteen feet above the ground. The remaining guard of Dun Aengus. Merric's heart rose; they were so very close now.

But the Praetori were running up on them hard.

xxxx

Brett sat, typing.

Geoff had to admire his resilience and sheer determination. The fire elemental refused to give up on Kathain, refused to chock her up as a lost cause. He would never. Kathain had been a sister to him; Brett would never just let her go to those Solomon bastards. And, so, he began the lost task of archiving those zeros and ones into an old desktop computer he'd found.

Still, it was a moot point.

Robin brought him a cup of hot tea, complete with milk and lemon, setting the saucer on the table next to him; Brett raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"

"It looked like you needed something," the girl responded.

Brett took the spoon and stirred it. "Thank you."

"What are you working on?" Robin inquired.

He sighed, shrugging in dejection. "Just trying to get all this binary into the computer so I can even get a chance to start figuring out what it's all about."

"What about Michael? Maybe he could help?" Robin whispered.

"Get a hold of him."

xxxx

There was nothing more sweet that night than the rush of wind as the returning warriors poured through the tunnel, back into the first ring of Dun Aengus. There was a swarm, a flurry of activity as the gates were barred shut as the Riders leapt from their mounts and rushed up to the tops of the wall.

"MERRIC!" A voice shouted.

The man gasped and ran to the source, through his arms around Mairi; he stopped, looking down at the bandage around her leg. "What happened?"

"It is nothing."

Boudica laughed. "Just a scratch, eh?"

Mairi grew serious. "I need the bow."

xxxx

"What were they like?"

Nycole never pictured it in Amon to get so interested in her fairy tale of warriors and battle. Although, he remained, cooped up in that small bedroom, bedridden and alone other than Nycole's storytelling and some brief contact with Robin. The teenager got so angry every time she saw the damage done to Amon's body that Nycole had to start banning Robin's visits. The injured man didn't need to be exited, and setting tiny fires of anger certain constituted excitement.

"What do you mean?" the empath inquired.

"Merric, Mairi, Boudica?"

Nycole laughed. "I don't know. I never met them."

"Then how do you know this?"

The empath drew open the shade a crack, revealing that distinctive landscape. Once, and only once, Zaizen had sent Amon to Dublin. It had been cold and rainy at the time, but Amon couldn't help but recognize it, even as twilight settled. He nodded, understanding, slipping back to a restful state, letting his eyelids droop.

"You need more rest."

Amon shook his head. "No." He started to rise. "I need to find Kathain."

"Oh no you don't!"

Nycole pushed him back down, gently, onto the bed. Amon weakly reclined back; it wouldn't be too terribly long before the girl wouldn't be able to do that, or so she hoped. Nycole wanted to jerk her hands back when she felt how utterly hot his body burnt. Fever. Infection had set in. Now that the telepath looked closely, she could see it, a glint of sweat on his brow, a sickly pallor to his face. Infection. Illness. Sickness. Death.

"I have to save her from Zaizen," Amon whispered.

Nycole shook her head gravely. "No. You HAVE to get some sleep. Your body's taken a beating. It's still healing." She tried to force out a smile. "Can't go saving the day if you can't stand up." Amon didn't look pleased with her comment. "Make you a promise. You get four hours of good rest, and I mean FOUR hours at least, and I'll tell you more of the story."

"You weren't going to give me any other options anyway, were you?"

The empath grinned. "No. Not really."

"Alright."

xxxx

"READY ARCHERS!"

Boudica was the epitome of a warrior, leading her people, shouting directions and orders this way and that. But, as she did, the woman had slipped the key to Merric. The young man helped shoulder Mairi's weight, taking her deeper and deeper into the keep of Dun Aengus, to Boudica's lodge in the center of the Iceni fortress.

It had been ages since either of the refugees had set foot in that grand hall. On their many travels since the Praetori had destroyed their village, Merric and Mairi had encountered a strange people obsessed with living out the afterlife in the hall of a great god. Every single time Mairi heard the tale and beliefs uttered, she always thought of Boudica's hall. Centuries of stone and thick, strong timbers came together to form a long lodge, perhaps forty or fifty feet long, and eighteen feet tall. Bulky rafters stretched overhead, supporting the roof and holding the structure together. It seemed so warm and comforting. The standards of the Iceni hung left and right.

Mairi had always felt welcome, until that moment then, as she limped across the hall, to the bow. It had rested there, behind Boudica's own seat at the grand banquet table, hung with reverence. The bow seemed so weirdly ancient, of a curving, undetermined bone and horn, ivory perhaps. It didn't matter. The bow itself had been formed and shaped with great carve, obviously the masterwork of some unknown craftsman. Delicate little carvings ran up the black form of the bow, filled and lined with thin trails of silver.

That bow had been kept there for Mairi herself.

The girl took up her weapon, feeling the strange lightness to the bow, despite materials that should have been dense. The bow seemed to welcome her, feeling so secure and utterly perfect in her hand. Mairi pulled a cloth from the mantle beneath it, finding her own quiver, still loaded with arrows, ready for use. The girl slung the quiver over her shoulder.

"Let us go."

xxxx

Short, but necessary. Enjoy.


	7. Liberation

IRISH HEART 

"It didn't happen that way."

Amon was getting better. He had to be. The man was arguing with her; that was always a good sign. At least, that was how Nycole took it. She hoped that, despite his obviously rising fever, Amon was on the mend, getting better. Things always had to get worse before they could get better.

Nycole chuckled to herself. "What are you babbling about?"

"It… it just didn't happen that way."

"Oh, so you're the storyteller, now?" The empath teased, raising an eyebrow. "Alright, then you tell me."

"Boudica…" Amon closed his eyes, swallowing hard. "Her rebellion was… against the Romans." Nycole wiped his brow as the man took a moment to focus his energy and concentration. "Not against renegade Iceni." Despite the pallor in his face, that sickly, sweaty look, Amon's eyes held a subtle, fading twinkle of mischief. "She lost."

"That's spoiling the ending," Nycole argued.

Amon seemed to lull, half in and half out of sleep. "Then go on."

xxxx

It took but a few moments to get back from Boudica's lodge to the outermost wall of Dun Aengus. However, with Merric dragging her alone, the minutes stretched on forever for Mairi. The girl felt butterflies fluttering in her stomach as time seemed to span and yawn before her.

"STAND TOGETHER!"

Boudica's bellowing orders reached deep within the fortress.

Mairi glanced up, just as they came upon the outermost wall. Boudica stood tall and proud, leather armor strapped to her lanky, muscular form. She readied to stand her ground, drawing back an arrow and aiming carefully. Before Boudica could even utter the next order, Merric placed Mairi down on her feet. The queen gave her friend a sharp wink as the pair drew back their bows. Mairi bridged three arrows between her fingers, taking aim over the massive army of Praetori riding in to Dun Aengus.

"We will always stand together, Boudica," Mairi crooned, looking down the length of the middle arrow, down the moor to the Praetori.

"DRAW!"

Boudica gave her thanks to the gods for the distinctively sharp resolve of the Iceni in the face of what seemed to be hundreds of Praetori. She wondered, pondering for an instant in time and space, exactly how the rebels had managed to amass so many, how they had recruited so many Iceni and others to their ranks. The Iceni had once been a proud, grand race of people. The Praetori had been no more than fifty strong at best, three years ago. And, now, somehow, they had increased their numbers to the vast sea of warriors moving in dark waves along the moor.

Boudica looked to Merric as he drew to her left; with Merric and Mairi at either side of her, the queen felt at ease, at home. "AIM!"

Mairi drew in a breath, feeling the smooth, liquid tension running up and down her arm nervous. Yes, she was nervous. All warriors had fear. To say that any warrior, soldier, or hunter held no fears whatsoever was a completely and total lie. There was always something. In Mairi, she feared the battle itself. In Merric, he feared the darkness the lurked within, let loose with the power of Cernunnos, the very lick of death its self. And Boudica? She held her breath every battle, terrified of the cost of losing that would be imposed upon her people.

"MAKE EVERY SHOT COUNT!"

The Praetori fired off first. A volley of arrows streaked up, through the sky and towards the Iceni. Boudica issued the order herself, setting loose the darts and arrows of her own people. The Iceni ducked as soon as their arrows, jumping behind turrets as the sharp things came flying down, splintering and shattering on the stone of Dun Aengus.

"SECOND VOLLEY!"

Another series of archers jumped up from behind the wall, in the first loop of Dun Aengus, firing off arrows as swiftly as they could. If this was to be the death of the Iceni, all the hands of those traitorous Praetori, Boudica and her people would make it a fight to the very end. As soon as the archers from within Dun Aengus had fired, another volley from atop the wall was loosed.

Mairi threw her body between two turrets. She was a woman possessed, Every action, every subtle switch and twinge of her muscles was that of an entirely different person, moving with swift, grace and ease. Mairi just licked her lips and fired off arrow after arrow. Each shot downed another of the Praetori with a rewarding groan or scream. Not a single of Mairi's shots were wasted. Her hands carefully followed the motion of her targets, guiding the bow, making sure of her aim before firing. Mairi was an assassin, a sniper of tremendous skill.

But it didn't matter. The Praetori where almost upon them.

Mairi fired off another three arrows, glanced to Boudica. Her queen stayed the course, taking aim and sending another Praetori to his death.

"STAND YOUR GROUND!"

xxxx

Amon had slipped away again. Nycole felt worry ebbing within at the thought of the man's terrible injuries and the toll they took on his body. He seemed to be growing worse and worse, the fever rising. Sakaki had gone out for a thermometer, since they had discovered that Lauren, Kathain's friend, didn't seem to have any. However, Nycole didn't need one to tell that the former hunter's fever spiked higher and higher, soaring in the heavens.

Nycole felt him again, as if to confirm what she already knew. "Amon…"

He had been struggling that whole time that Nycole told the dark story of the Mairi and Merric to stay awake. And, yet, just when consciousness seemed cornered, it would slip right out of Amon's grasp. Like sand, the harder he squeezed, the harder it grew to keep a hold of the real world. Perhaps the man just needed more rest. But, still, it could have hinted at some deeper, deadlier reason.

"You can't die," the empath bathed Amon's face with a damp, warm cloth.

Robin needed to know.

xxxx

Down at the very base of Dun Aengus, were the sharp shards of rock and stone left from the construction of the fortress. Those last remnants and off cuts had been discarded as the massive, bulky walls rose along the cliffs. Some lost architect and builder had decided to arrange them down, jutting out and studding the base of the ancient city and around it. They rose from the ground, forming a jagged maze of rocks and stone, piercing the air itself.

Boudica thanked whatever king or lord had ordered the stone arranged in the way. The Praetori were forced to abandon their steeds. They drew swords, daggers, and knives, climbing and scrambling through the rocks. That eyesore gave the Iceni the advantage.

Mairi took the opportunity. She drew the bow, with three arrows slipped between her fingers, taking aim of those scoundrels, the traitorous dogs. The girl loosed them, just as Merric fired off another shot. They were a killing machine between the two of them, as twins should be. They moved with the same skilled, careful actions, the same energy, grace, and ferocity. Their actions and motions mirrored one another. However, while Merric took but one arrow at a time, Mairi sent out three. The bow was her weapon, while Merric bested her at something completely different.

The Praetori had reached the bottom of Dun Aengus.

Boudica swore. "OIL!"

Three, grand, massive cauldrons filled with boiling, hot oil, were poured out. The cauldrons had set along the walls of Dun Aengus for centuries, ready for war. After the fall of so many Iceni to the Praetori, Boudica had kept the vats hot at all times, the fires beneath them always burning. Now, the iron kettles were spilt out into giant holes just before them, running into the fortress. The holes steamed.

Boudica grinned to herself, feeling the stone beneath her feet growing warm. "BACK!"

Thick, black oil spilled out in streams from pockmarks in the centuries old wall of Dun Aengus. Merric turned away, loathing the screams and shrieks of pain as the flesh was scalded right off the bone by the boiling oil. Boudica smiled, laughing to herself as what Praetori remained turned tail and bolted, running for their very lives. Mairi didn't stop letting her arrows fly, taking out the fleeing traitors.

Merric grabbed her last arrow swiftly, not letting it loose. "Mairi…"

"What?" she breathed.

The young man pointed. "They have lost. Let them go."

Mairi bit her lip, letting her arrow down. "I am sorry."

Boudica shifted her weight uneasily, watching the Praetori riding off into the night, tails tucked between their legs. "So are they." She looked to Mairi. "Now, what was this you were saying about owing me?"

xxxx

"Robin?"

Nycole called softly to the fire starter, as she sat by the window. All eyes rose suddenly, glancing up to the empath as she stood in the doorframe. Brett couldn't help but see the sorrow and hesitation in Nycole's face. The telepath gestured slightly for Robin to join her in the bedroom with the injured Amon.

Robin rose, slowly, hesitantly. "Yes?"

Nycole bit her lip. "You should probably come in."

xxxx

"Allow me to get this perfectly clear."

Mairi nodded slowly, taking a sip of the warm mead in her glass, sitting down the long table from Boudica as the queen spoke. They had retreated to the warm comfort of the lodge in the very center of Dun Aengus. Merric sat at the other end of the table, his long wings stretched out, as the man tried desperately to get the vile things to go away.

"You are trying to tell me that someone-" Boudica paused on that word, searching for the correct following word "-masquerading as one of my messengers, sent for you to collect my favor."

Merric let out a sigh of almost orgasmic relief as his wings finally melted away, dissipating in a manner of speaking. His face contorted in extreme pleasure as the feathers puffed and exploded outwards. With those feathers, the Iceni's wings molted away. Those black, fuzzy puffs faded away as the energy left Merric, just slipping away into the world. The young man stretched out, feeling suddenly happy to be free of those ebony burdens and the weight imposed.

"Yes," Merric answered, composing himself.

The queen cocked her head to one side, trying to get the facts straight in her own mind. "Are you entirely sure this was one of MY scouts?"

"He carried your standard. I asked to see if he bore the marks of the Praetori. He had none of their tattoos." The young man looked away, growing solemn and set. "This man gave me the message, supposedly directly from your lips, to gather up Mairi and return to Dun Aengus as soon as possible."

Boudica's gaze shifted to Mairi. "Is this true?"

The girl sighed. "I never saw the man. But I trust in my brother, and all he tells me to be true and just."

"Then, there is a spy among us."

xxxx

:insert dramatic music here: Yes, I am mean. I understand, and utterly enjoy this.


	8. Past Ties

IRISH HEART 

Robin didn't know what to expect when Nycole called her in. The Craft user had been effectively banned from the tiny bedroom to the upper apartment of the loft for two or three days now, under strict orders from the empath. Her earlier anger and sorrow had caused Nycole to bar Robin's access to Amon. The teenager hadn't seen the man in two days at least; she didn't know what to expect.

The teenager held her breath as she stepped into the room. Nycole eased the door shut behind her, cautiously, as silently as possible. Robin didn't let her breath out. The room grew as still as the grave and death its self. A bad sign.

"Robin," Nycole stopped her before the girl could approach Amon. "I wanted to warn you…."

"What?"

The empath sighed; she had to just out and admit it rather than beat around the bush. "I just…. I just don't want you to get your hopes up." Nycole ran her fingers through her hair. "He's been in and out of it, y'know?"

"Yes."

Robin's heart fell. She had hoped against hope that the quiet around Amon's room, that the soft conversation that trespassed the upstairs apartment to the flat between the man and his nurse were good signs. The girl had bit her tongue, keeping silent and trying to allow Amon to get bed rest and sleep, to heal and get better. How sad it was that Robin now found all that hope to be misplaced. The girl felt her heart cave in.

"I don't know if he's going to even live through the night at this rate, " Nycole breathed, whispering the words.

"Nycole…"

Robin jumped. Amon's voice. He sounded so weak and strained, as if it took all the effort in the world just form and speak the empath's name. The teenage witch had never heard him sound so utterly pathetic and sad.

But the telepath just turned, putting on a big, fake smile. "Yes, Amon?"

"I can picture them."

Nycole furrowed her eyebrows. "Who?"

"Mairi, and Merric, and Boudica." Amon seemed to be trying to gaze at Nycole, but his eyes just didn't seem to want to focus properly.

"Really, now?" the empath teased as she took her seat beside the bed.

"Yes." Amon closed his eyes slightly. "It's… strange." Robin could have laughed at his serious, almost skeptical mind even in that condition. "You aren't implanting any thoughts in my mind, are you. Nycole?"

"No."

Robin blinked. Such a flat, matter-of-fact and nonchalant answer. And, yet, no real curiosity from Nycole. It was almost as if the empath either didn't care, or had been expecting it from Amon. The younger girl tried to ignore this as she pulled up a chair beside the bed.

"How are you feeling?"

Amon didn't answer; he just lolled, looking to Nycole. "Go on."

The empath smiled slightly, almost coyly and devilishly. "Alright."

xxxx

They searched the entire populous of Dun Aengus that day. Boudica, Merric, and Mairi moved together, seeing every house and home, checking each and every Iceni of the village for the marks of the Praetori. The spy, the traitor, had to be somewhere within the walls of the century old fortress.

And yet, they found nothing. No clue. No trace as per who was the culprit.

Boudica slumped in the throne at the end of her table, sighing heavily and bridging her hands together. The queen thought. She had not called anyone to her table, to her side, in many years, lifetimes, perhaps. And, still, someone had known to contact Mairi and Merric, draw them to Dun Aengus while they were supposed to be hiding out from the foreign invaders. Boudica had gone through great lengths to keep her twin siblings hidden, and, still, someone knew.

But who?

It had to be someone close.

The queen watched as Merric and Mairi giggled and laughed at some joke Boudica couldn't hear from her spot at the table. The woman chuckled to herself inwardly as the young man tried to keep his sister calm. The female warrior loathed seeing anything happen to the two of them. From a political standpoint, so long as Boudica remained unwed, Merric, her younger brother, was next in line to lead their people, to rule the Iceni. Aside from that, they were important, obviously, to the gods, judging from the duel blessing and curse of Merric's dark wings. And, even more important, was the simple fact that Boudica loved and doted on her siblings.

She had to find the bastard Praetori in their midst before anything happened to them.

Boudica had to do something.

xxxx

"The queen was at a quandary," Nycole explained.

At any other time, if her concern weren't so great for Amon, Robin could have laughed. He seemed on edge, hanging on every single word the empath uttered, lingering on the story itself. And, yet Amon had always seemed so cool and composed before. Perhaps it was the fever.

"She called together the Thirteen."

The empath's eyes went wide. "How did you know that?"

"I'm not sure…." Amon answered.

Nycole nodded. "I guess I can understand that."

xxxx

Boudica's messengers streaked out from Dun Aengus at a dead gallop. They bore letters with her royal inscription, calling together the Warriors. Boudica watched, gazing out on the misty moor as riders galloped off, all carrying the banner of the Iceni. They carried not only the message of the queen, but the hope and salvation of all her people. The riders were her choicest of warriors from the village, fastest riders for miles to come, but nothing compared to the Warriors.

She hated calling upon the Thirteen. It seemed such a terrible sin. The Thirteen had been given great gifts from the gods, from Cernunnos and all the deities. They could alter the universe around them, bending the very fabric of reality to their will. The Thirteen were all powerful, as per humans were concerned. Their gifts were not to be taken lightly.

It also just felt wrong on an entirely different level. The Thirteen had been scattered to save them from the approaching onslaught of the foreigners. Boudica had given the order herself, sending all those who had once been her closest friends and confidants as far from her and one another as possible. While a few had stuck together, the vast majority had been cast to the wind for their own safety, and the protection of the whole world. Who knew what the Praetori or those invaders would do if they held the power of the Thirteen in their hands?

Boudica shuddered at the thought.

Her husband, the king, had kept the Warriors close in his day. Those days had been fun and carefree. It felt homey and comforting to have such life and energy in the great hall of Dun Aengus. Someone was always at home. There was always someone to laugh and jest with, to play simply games or to practice weaponry skills with. Ordering them to leave left Boudica's hall empty and barren, lonely and dark. They seemed to take a piece of her heart and her happiness with them.

Especially Merric and Mairi. Boudica had found their retreat the most heartbreaking. She had been so utterly close to them, loving and caring. When their parents died so many years ago, Boudica became almost a mother to the twins, taking them under her wing.

She prayed the Warriors would arrive quickly, for all their sake.

xxxx

"I knew this… this would be a tale of the Thirteen."

Amon's voice sounded labored and heavy, as though the words were weighted down by something unseen, unfelt by the girls. Robin's heart wrenched at every word the man tried to form and say.

Nycole raised an eyebrow. "You know no one does anything without a reason."

"Heh, I should have known better," the man lamented.

The empath smiled slightly. "Should I tell you a different story?"

"No," the man breathed. "I'm rather enjoying this one."

Nycole almost burst out laughing. Robin felt the juxtaposition of the empath's liveliness and Amon's deathly visage so awful, so terribly inappropriate. How could the telepath laugh at a time like that? The teenager hated the thought of Nycole's bubbly nature in those dark times. And, yet, Amon seemed eased by it, and, for that, the fire starter could not argue a single word.

The empath grew serious. "Amon, you're going to have to accept who and what you are sooner or later." She gave a small shrug. "I just figured I'd share a part of your history with you." Nycole touched her cheek tenderly. "You need to get used to this and give up this stupid faking sick."

Robin blinked at Nycole's audacity, but, under a stern glare from the empath, the girl settled. She her knuckle for a second before piping up, "It's true!"

Nycole flashed a rather pleased smile. "See. Even she agrees."

"What am I supposed to do half-dead?" Amon inquired.

Nycole shook her head. "No. You can't die. You're one of the Thirteen." She tapped her foot almost nervously. "Even if I wanted to let you just pass on, it's not in the rulebook. If you're one of the Thirteen, which you are, you've got a job to do."

"And what job is that?" The man asked.

Nycole shrugged. "To tell you the truth…."

"Yes?" Even Robin hung on Amon's question.

"I'm not even sure."

The teenage fire starter glanced across the bed to the telepath, a look of shock written on her face. "Does anyone know?"

"Yes…" Nycole trailed off, almost sadly, looking away.

Amon grew curious. "Who?"

"Kathain."

xxxx

Alright… now do you see the point behind this story? I sleepy. Nighty night.


	9. Dawn Pint

IRISH HEART 

They were coming.

The Thirteen were gathering for the first time in close to ten years.

Boudica watched the horses crossing the moor, all twelve of them in total. Merric had already arrived with Mairi. All the queen had to do was await for the remaining dozen to come riding in. And, they did. No Iceni could resist the message of their empress, answering the call to arms to protect their own people against the foreigners. They approached slowly, each holding their mounts at the top of the rolling hills, looking down the grassy plain to Dun Aengus.

The queen knew this well procedure far too well. She gazed out as each of the twelve, approaching riders held up their standards, wavering flags in bold, bright colors. Boudica waited for all the colors and symbols to be presented, representing each, individual of the Thirteen. Boudica raised her own colors, the banner of the Iceni, bearing her galloping white horse.

Still, the Warriors would not come down off their perches high atop the hills.

Boudica glanced to Merric. "You have to present yourself, brother."

He held up his own banner, waving the blue, tattered cloth over his head. The Warriors nodded, starting slowly down and off the hills, riding down to Dun Aengus. They meandered down towards the city, the seat of what had once been the proud, Iceni empire, the home of kings and queens of centuries.

"Let's greet our guests."

xxxx

The fever had broken sometime in the night.

Robin couldn't tell when. She had fallen asleep sometime during the night, holding Amon's hand in hers, as if trying to hold him in that world of the living. He had drifted away in the late evening, growing distant and delirious. Amon's fevered ramblings and mutterings had almost driven Robin to madness. And, yet, the teenager stayed at his side, listening to every utterance, for however crazy they sounded.

It was when Amon spoke of the Thirteen that the girl truly felt sick, her stomach wrenching along with her heart.

"They are waves," Amon had murmured. "The Thirteen."

Nycole, then, merely raised an arched eyebrow, curious at the statement. "Waves?"

"The ocean…"

The empath just shrugged it off.

After that, Amon grew silent. Robin wondered time after time if he were passing between life and death, walking the lonely trail of Purgatory its self. Robin prayed to God, the Christian God, despite this heathen and pagan world she had fallen into.

"Yea though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil…" Robin let out a sigh. "I can't seem to recall the rest of it."

"Never shall innocent blood be shed, yet the blood of the wicked shall flow like a river. The Three shall spread their blackened wings and be the vengeful striking hammer of God." Nycole spoke up. "And shepherds we shall be. For thee, my Lord, for thee. Power hath descended from thy hand, that our feet may swiftly carry thy command. We shall flow of a river forth to thee, and teeming with souls shall it ever be. In nominee patris, et filii, et spiritus sancti."

Robin blinked. "What was that?"

"Family prayer," the empath replied. "Probably the only real prayer I know, thanks to Boondock Saints." Nycole gave a shrug. "I don't know. It always gave me strength…" she snickered. "And a smartass little Irish brogue."

They sat over Amon for hours.

Finally, in the morning, his eyelids fluttered open. The fever had broken, beginning the slow decent to normal. He was getting better, healing. They could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

Nycole glanced to him, a smile on her face. "Y'dead yet?"

"No."

The empath giggled. "Good, because you were taking too long to figure out one way or the other."

xxxx

The Thirteen amassed, a silent lot. Boudica wouldn't have expected any less of them. These were battle-hardened warriors, not the sort of jovial bunch that would sit and chat about the weather or crops. No, these were a quiet bunch, as if constantly ready for a fight, ever stealthy. In any other group of people, the queen would have worried at their silence; instead, she invited the Thirteen in warmly.

These were her warriors, her chosen. They were marked by the gods themselves, granted the powers of both great forces of nature, and the serenity to know when to use them. They had the constitution and the determination to stay secret and safe, remaining in the shadows, despite the looming threat to their people, to the Iceni. And for that, Boudica remained ever thankful. For those long years that the orders stood, the Thirteen kept in hiding, and kept their gifts, their blessings, hidden from the invaders.

Cernunnos, god of the universe, keeper of life and death, had given these Thirteen such strange duel blessings and curses, Merric included. Some days, Boudica counted the stars in thanks for the advantage the gods had bestowed upon the Iceni in the form of the Warriors. Other days, Boudica cursed the power that had been loosed upon the earth.

Boudica had a great feast prepared in their honor. Musicians played, fresh meat roasted, and fires blazed as people danced. However, the Thirteen were not to be enticed. Not even Merric. He sat by his twin sister's side, looking over the festive Iceni, unmoved by all the merriment Boudica tried to share. The queen could see the longing in Mairi's eyes, the urge to dance, but the girl would not leave her brother's side. The Thirteen remained to the outskirts of the festivity, unsure of how exactly to respond while maintaining their distance, keeping neutrality.

The Thirteen were never intended to fight on the side of the Iceni. Boudica knew this well. They were to remain as neutral as the sun, the moon, and the stars themselves. Always there, always looking over man, but never favoring one over the other.

Yet, they could not.

Boudica knew this well and used this to her advantage. The Thirteen felt at home in Dun Aengus. They felt at ease under the command of the queen. More than that. They felt the Iceni to be family. In Merric's case, they were family. No honorable man could abandon his own people, his own flesh and blood. Only those traitorous bastards, the Paretori, could do such a thing.

Finally, when the noise and chaos settled down, Boudica addressed the Thirteen, calling them to her table. "Friends and kin, come forth."

They took places at the table, standing at their chairs for a moment. Boudica and Mairi watched with piqued interest as the Warriors waited. There was an air of pomp and circumstance to these affairs, as the remaining party-goers and attendants were shooed from the hall. Then, all of the Thirteen, save Merric, stretched their backs, allowing their wings to sprout from their backs. Brown, grey, and soft crème wings. There were those that matched eagles, and those that seemed more delicate, like doves.

Merric sat swiftly, plopping down in his chair before the others could, letting out a heavy breath of annoyance. The others sat. Only Boudica remained standing, ready to address her Warriors.

"I have gathered you here for a reason."

One of the Warriors piped up from across the table. "I do nay suppose it was for fine meade and hot food?"

There were uneasy laughs.

"No. There is a traitor among us."

xxxx

It took another day or two for Amon to get back on his feet. Slowly at first. Nycole supervised as Sakaki helped the former hunter, his former partner get back on his feet. He seemed different, changed by the experience, or, perhaps, just disheartened by his slow progress.

On the fifth day, Brett and the others returned home from the market to find Amon gone. It took him a few moments to figure it out, but, by then, the fire elemental didn't care. He ambled down to the local pub, craving a good Killians, or a Guiness on the tap. To Hell be damned with Amon if he foolishly killed himself by pushing too hard, too soon. That wasn't Brett's fault, nor would it ever be.

And, so, at around 4 o'clock in the afternoon, Brett stuffed his hands into his pockets, found a ten-punt note. The paper currency crinkled between his fingers as the elemental stared down the man on the bill. It was true, they should have been saving the punts. They were poor, dirt poor. Everything that band of witches had, they left in Japan, in Kristo's house and home. All their money had been left there during the flight, or was locked into Nocturne of Kabukichu. They should have been saving, pinching pennies… But this bill, these ten punts, they were Brett's, and Brett needed a good beer.

The pub its self surprised Brett. It wasn't as he would expect it to be. There weren't Irish flags and shamrocks scattered about. Nor were there Manchester United propaganda strewn everywhere. Instead, the place felt warm and homey. Brett glanced over the bar to the painted name on the mirror. O'Doole's. It was entirely different from what the elemental would expect from a pub with such a name.

It only mildly surprised Brett when he saw the darkly clad man seated at the bar. The younger man tried to ignore him as he pulled up a stool.

Brett paid him no attention. Nothing was going to ruin this Guinness of his. The fire elemental had just spent the entire day with Kristo, sorting through those papers he and Robin had secured from Solomon. They had gotten in touch with Michael, scanning all of the papers so that the hacker could sort through them are try to find Kathain's location. The work was long and hard, but it was worth it. Anything to get Kathain back, to keep her dark gifts from aiding Zaizen anymore than was necessary. And, yet, thus fare, nothing had been turned up. Brett was growing more and more frustrated, and more and more depressed.

It seemed like they would never find Kathain, Not ever.

"Took you long enough to find me."

Brett sighed, and gestured for the bartender to come over. "Wasn't looking."

"Didn't think you were."

Amon waited, pausing for a moment as Brett ordered a pint of Guinness and paid with the antiquated punts. Most of Europe had already switched over to the Euro, but the group somehow converted their cash to punts. Easier to use in the more out of reach locales, the better places to hide. Brett took a sip, savoring the taste of the fresh Guinness.

"Nycole and Robin have Sakaki and Geoff hunting around town for you."

Amon trailed his fingers around the edge of his glass. "Figured as much."

"You know, you have her really worried."

The former hunter barely regarded the statement. "I figured Nycole would be worried."

"Not Nycole. Robin," Brett answered before taking another swig of his beer. "She's been worried about you since before we left Japan."

Amon shrugged, giving a slight wince as his aching muscles and joints were forced to work. "Robin can handle herself." The man looked away. "Robin and the rest of you, you can take care of yourselves."

"You're so full of shit, Amon."

The older male blinked. "What?"

Brett hardly looked up from his Guinness. "You heard me. You… Are… Full… of… Shit." The fire elemental sipped at his beer, nursing the wondrous brew his last ten punts bought him. "You're one of the Thirteen. You need to stop thinking like that. You're not a lone wolf anymore."

Brett stared deeply into the dark liquid that was his drink as Amon dared ask the question that had been burning in his mind. "You… are you one of the Thirteen?"

"Yes," the elemental conceded.

"And Geoff?" Amon inquired.

Again, Brett nodded. "Yup. So's Raven, Bear, and Kristo."

"What about Kathain, Nycole, and Sakaki?"

"Nycole and Kathain are something entirely different but just as dangerous as the Warriors," Brett explained matter-of-factly. "And Sakaki? He just fell into all this by accident. He's not one of the Thirteen."

Amon lingered on the thoughts, on what gloom that statement held. "I've been having dreams. About Nycole's story."

"I'm not surprised," Brett stated flatly.

"Are they memories?" Amon asked, suddenly sounding fearful and childlike, full of hesitation and fear. "They're too detailed, too real to be dreams. I mean, can I be remembering someone else's life?"

The elemental shrugged. "Could be."

They sat in silence for a moment, each drinking their liquor.

Then, Amon spoke again. "What in the Hell are we?"

"I don't know."

xxxx

We be's getting closer to finding out the secrets of the Thirteen… and why in the hell I like cryptic shit.


	10. Hellhounds

IRISH HEART 

"_MERRIC!"_

_Her voice screamed to him, sharply, shrilly. Mairi. She was leaping away from him, whirling around, arrows drawn. The girl let loose as she fell away, into the dark. Amon jumped, reaching for her, but Mairi's shots slammed into his chest, his shoulder, and side. _

"_MAIRI!"_

xxxx

Amon jumped awake in a cold sweat.

He tried to shake off the nightmare, the terrible visage of Mairi, the maiden of Nycole's tale. The young Celtic girl looked so angry, so bitter, so hurt and tormented as she shot off arrows at him. Amon could almost feel the metal heads still stabbing at his flesh, despite their illusory nature. The man reached for the wounds, finding only the bindings of his previous injuries.

Amon glanced around the dark room, finding no one. Not even Nycole or Robin. He was utterly alone in that bedroom in the old flat.

For once, he didn't want to be alone. For once in Amon's life, he wanted this all to be but a dark dream, a nightmare of epic proportions. The former hunter just wanted to wake up, back in Kristo's house, with Kathain slumbering at his side, lying among the others of that rag tag band. Amon wondered what had become of him that he now craved the company of the others.

Perhaps it was Brett's stern words in the pub.

It was true, and Amon had to admit it. He was one the Thirteen, just as lost as the Brett, Geoff, Bear, Raven, and Kristo. And, yet, instinct dictated that they needed to find one another and stay together. It was like long lost family finding each other after years apart. The long wolf had come home to his pack.

And, yet, this was a pack broken.

They seemed lost and despondent. This pack was missing one its greatest wolves. Kathain. And, they were still halved. There were seven warriors still lost, wandering the world with no sense of who they were. This pack had yet to see a single day when they were all together, the complete family they were supposed to be.

Amon stepped out of the bedroom and into the living room. There, he found the others. The man paused to give a slight smirk at the group as they lay, almost piled upon one another, sleeping peacefully in the night. Amon had been walking this world for so long by himself, all alone. The former hunter couldn't imagine belonging to anything, especially not a family after everything that had happened with his mother. And yet, this family seemed to be drawing him in, digging their claws into his flesh and keeping Amon from just up and leaving.

If had he wanted to, Amon couldn't. This had become matters of a higher calling. No longer could this lone wolf pretend, for however much the man wished he could go back to a simple life of solitude. The Powers That Be refused to allow Amon to just live out his life the way he wanted to.

The man looked over all those who were sprawled across the room, locked in slumber.

Amon had so many questions, so much he needed to know, but the man couldn't bear to wake them. Instead, he tiptoed through the sea of people crammed in the tiny living room, pausing only as he passed Robin and Nycole. They shared the pull out bed, lying before a television, still on and glowing in the dark. Amon turned off the television and pulled the blanket up a bit on the pair.

Then, Amon stole out, into the night.

The calm, brisk air felt so refreshing after the warm stuffiness of the flat. Perhaps it was all the people crammed into such a small space. Amon had never known such closeness and such nearness to so many people. It felt good to get out, into the fresh air.

A voice stopped him as Amon strolled out of the small yard before the flat. "Y'know it's not safe to go wandering alone."

"I know."

Kristo slipped from the shadows and into the real world, katana in hand. "You should go back upstairs."

"No."

The ex-army sniper turned shadow walker snickered at the defiance. "And what do you plan to do, then? Wander the streets of Dublin like an idiot?"

Amon shook his head. "I need to clear my mind."

"No." Kristo purred the word, really. "You're going out to try to find answers."

The former hunter had to conceded and admit the truth. "Yes."

"Then, go find them and hurry back."

xxxx

Together, they searched.

The Thirteen turned Dun Aengus upside down. And, yet, there was nothing. No trace of the traitor who had turned in Merric and Mairi's location to the Praetori. Boudica had been hoping that the wings and imposing, almost godlike visages of the Thirteen would spook the foe, flush him or her out and into the open. And, yet, not even the seers among the Warriors could find any sign or trace of deception among the Iceni. They were all innocent.

"I cannot believe this! I simply cannot!" Boudica screamed.

But she never noticed the form skulking out, onto the moor, leaving Dun Aengus for the camps of the Praetori, just ten or twenty miles away.

The Iceni would fall, crushed under the foreigners.

xxxx

Amon wandered the streets of Dublin in a daze.

This world, it felt so familiar, so close. He had never been in Ireland for very long at one time, and his trips were but few. And, still, every time Amon had traversed the streets of Dublin, they seemed so welcoming and calming. Or, was that just his current perspective based off of the dreams, sparked by Nycole's tale?

Amon couldn't tell anymore.

The lines between reality and illusion were fading. And Amon? He was becoming an entirely different person. The man hardly recognized himself after all this time. Amon was a butterfly. A creature transformed and reborn. Amon felt like the phoenix its self, only he had not laid down willingly to the fire and flames to be born anew.

He kept walking.

xxxx

"Mairi…."

Someone was shaking her shoulder. She cracked open bleary eyes, unhappy to be awoken after only a few hours of sleep and rest. Mairi rubbed her eyes, trying to scour away the last remnants of slumber. When the girl's vision cleared, she found herself staring up and into the face of Merric, her brother. He looked worried.

"Merric..?" She furrowed her eyebrows. "What is the meaning of this?"

The young Iceni man reached down for his sister's hand. "Mairi, we need to leave, now."

"But, Merric…?"

Her brother grew set and resolved. "Do not question me. We don't have time for this, sister. We just need to be getting out of here, as soon as possible."

"The Thirteen only just got here. You cannot just abandon them!" Mairi tried to argue.

Merric shook his head. "The Praetori are coming."

"What?"

xxxx

Amon trembled.

The man could no longer trust his feelings as he walked down the long alleys of Dublin. He felt such odd things, so terribly connected to the tale of Mairi and Merric. He hated that feeling, that unsure sentiment. The man stumbled about the streets, heading towards what? Even Amon didn't know.

All the man knew was there were things within him that were not at peace.

Xxxx

Horns sounded.

Boudica leapt, scrambling up the steps to the top of the outer wall. Drums beat, rumbling in the old, cold stone of Dun Aengus. She heard the warnings, racing up and holding her breath as the woman glanced over the moor, towards the hills. The queen hoped, for one moment, that there would be nothing but the faint glow of moonlight on the grassy expanse.

No, nothing could be that simple, that easy. Not for the Iceni.

The Praetori had returned. Boudica gasped as she saw the glow over the tops of the hills, warm and orange. Flames licked beyond the moors. The Thirteen raced up to the side of the their queen. Mairi dragged Merric behind her, hauling her reluctant brother up to the top of the wall, her ancient bow in hand.

"Praetori…" Boudica whispered the vile name. "ARCHERS TO THE READY!"

They came to the top of the hill.

Only, this time, they weren't alone. An army of thousands rode up with them. This was the foreign invaders, called by their gods the "Row-Manns." The strange Romans rode alongside the savage traitors that were the Praetori. In truth, these were the very people the Praetori emulated, trying so desperately to be like the emperor's supreme guard. And, now, they were at least five to ten thousands strong. Boudica couldn't tell in the dark. And they had brought weapons and beasts from far off lands.

The Iceni were doomed.

Mairi readied a break of three arrows, looking to Boudica. "Certainly brought reinforcements this time around."

"Aye." Boudica merely nodded.

Merric turned away in disgust. "They are going to slaughter us like pigs. We need to just surrender, Boudica."

"I REFUSE!" The queen shouted harshly. "I will not allow the Iceni, Dun Aengus, all this to fall. My husband did not, and nor shall I. Dun Aengus will stand tall and proud forever."

One of the Thirteen looked to his queen. "We will not fail you."

"No," Boudica growled. "You will not fail the Iceni."

xxxx

Mmm… battle.


	11. Borderline

IRISH HEART 

"When you were but young lads, you swore your fealty, your pride and honor to me. I call all you on all debts and promises of allegiance!"

All eyes of the Iceni fell upon Boudica. In her, in their queen, lay the hopes of an entire empire. No one wanted to admit it, but Dun Aengus was the last, true stronghold of the Iceni. If that last fortress fell, their entire way of life fell to the invading Romans. Nothing would be left of the once proud people that occupied the Aran Islands.

Boudica looked down from the breeching wall, to her people. "This is our last stand. Our last chance to drive back the foreign bastards and the Praetori. This is it." The woman glanced over her shoulder, to the faint glowing against the hills. "This is all we have left." The queen blinked back tears. "I will not submit."

"My sword is yours." One of the Thirteen took to a knee before Boudica.

She shook her head serenely, smiling coyly. "No, dear Wallace. Your sword belongs to the Romans. Were it not for them, you would not fight. You should return the favor by bringing your steel directly to them."

The Iceni let up a cheer.

Mairi leaned close to her twin brother, whispering into his ear. "Do you think we stand any chance against these dogs?"

"Not a prayer."

xxxx

"Hey…"

Nycole approached Sakaki slowly. It had been days since the empath had been able to work closely alongside the man, keeping his emotions in check through her own gifts. The girl had barely any idea what state of mind and focus the man was in. He needed help in meditation to keep his own powers in control.

Sakaki turned, glancing over his shoulder to the empath. "Hi."

Nycole didn't know what to say after all that had happened over the last few weeks. Over the past months, Sakaki had slowly watched his life being taken away from him. Now, in that foreign land of Ireland, Haruto had lost every last scrap and remnant of his previous life as an STN-J hunter. The girl felt terrible for everything that had happened over the last weeks, for everything Sakaki had to witness.

"How are you?" he asked.

At any other time, the question would have seemed strange and out of place. But neither had really seen one another in a few days at the least.

Nycole shrugged. "Alright, I guess."

"Wanna go for a walk?"

xxxx

The hills swelled, growing larger as if cresting like waves. Hundreds of thousands of Romans and Praetori loomed on the horizon, climbing to the top of the rolling hills. They stood, looming down over Dun Aengus. These were not the disorganized dogs of the Praetori. No, those traitors fell into neat ranks along the dark rows of Romans.

Thousands of horses; what seemed like millions of soldiers.

Then, there were those lumbering beasts. They were massive, bulky creatures, moving on stocky legs. They were slow, but looked powerful, like giant demons. Their huge ears flapped. Long tusks, like teeth, swung this way and that on their heads menacingly. Boudica had heard rumors of such creatures, loud, trumpeting beasts from far away lands to the south, beyond great seas and mountains. Elephants, they were called. Powerful animals with the strength and body weight to crush a human just as easily as a bug. They could topple great walls and towers with a single charge.

And, now, they had come to Dun Aengus.

Mairi held her bow with a clenched fist, feeling the strength of the horn in her hand, wrapped in leather. "How much do you think the ground will rumble and quake when we fall one of those?"

"Focus, Mairi," Boudica ordered under her breath.

Drums beat. They sounded again and again, thumping out like one, massive heartbeat. It was the heartbeat of an invading army, ready and poising to conquer the last shreds of resistance. Dun Aengus was but a speck.

Merric squeezed his sister's shoulder, readying himself for battle. "We should have left while we still had the chance."

"Quiet, Merric," his queen snarled.

Mairi drew in a breath, holding it and licking her lips, drawing her bow as far back as she could. The string vibrated slightly, humming under the tension. That faint, subtle note rang up the girl's arm, quivering and trembling softly. It was a pure, perfect pitch, singing sweetly in Mairi's muscles and tendons.

"Allow her to concentrate."

xxxx

Amon had to keep moving.

This didn't feel right. Not anymore. Nothing felt right. He didn't even feel like himself. Amon blurred, feeling himself fading into the story of Mairi and Merric. Nothing felt the same anymore. Up was down. Down was up. And the future had become the past. The entire world moved so fast, and, yet, not at all.

Amon didn't understand.

He could see these things, such terrible things, in his mind. He could remember. He didn't need Nycole's tale anymore. Somehow, the man knew exactly how the story ended. It was almost as if the former hunter remembered another life, a life he had never lived nor known anything about before Nycole's tale had begun. And yet, it was only a story, a fabrication based off of the life of the Celtic queen Boudica and her war against the Romans. Or, was it?

"Hey! Watch were yer goin'!"

Someone bumped into Amon, shoving him back harshly, breaking his train of thoughts. His revorie shattered, breaking upon the world into thousands of delicate, crystalline pieces, each glittering more perfectly and brightly than the last.

"I have to be sure."

xxxx

They were coming down now.

For three years since the Romans had first set foot upon the ancient homeland of the Iceni, coming to the mainland by boat, Boudica had watched them come. The Romans had come to the great walls of the Dun Aengus only five times since then, ever weakening their defenses. They mostly allowed the Praetori to attack, to nibble and peck at what remained of the once proud empire.

When her husband died, the Romans came for her. Their general offered Boudica riches beyond her wildest dreams, lands, houses. All the Romans asked was that she give in peacefully and allow them to take her people. Boudica refused. She and her sisters, Mairi included, were brutally raped before the Iceni.

The sort of diplomacy favored no good will.

After that first time, they came back, again and again, shoring upon the walls of Dun Aengus, pushing further and further. The Romans had yet to actually breech the wall and enter the city, but that didn't mean they wouldn't this time, especially with the elephants on their side.

Boudica shook her head, wondering if, this time, after three years, she would have to surrender to the Romans.

Mairi held the arrow, glaring down the long length of the shaft. "Boudica, your signal?"

The queen watched with a predatory gaze as the Romans just began their descent, slowly marching across the moor. It was agonizingly slow, as if every moment were drawn out to increase their enemies' fear and worry. Boudica wished they'd just get it over with and charge the walls of Dun Aengus.

But these Romans were not the bloodthirsty, brash creatures the Praetori were. These were pure and true, soldiers to the very end. They were probably even enough to kill all of the Thirteen warriors. These were thoughts Bodica didn't savor, but knew she had to admit. A queen always had to be honest to herself, above all others. These Romans, with their tempered shields, flashing swords, and ordered lines, seemed too strong, too powerful for the Iceni rebels.

"Your orders?" Mairi called, impatient now.

The queen closed her eyes, hearing the thunder of the approaching calvary.

"Boudica?" Mairi breathed, still holding her triple shot. "You need to give the order, now."

The queen drew a deep breath, the last one she'd be able to take before battle. It didn't matter how much the woman wished this war would be over, or how much she prayed the Thirteen could destroy the Romans. Yes, her Warriors were powerful, but the ages of glory in the Iceni were long lost. This was the last stand, and Boudica had to acknowledge that simple fact. This was the end of her people, perhaps even the Thirteen themselves.

"LOOSE!"

xxxx

Sakaki laughed.

It was so good to hear him laugh after so long of quiet solemnity from the man. Nycole had longed to listen to that jovial sound, to feel the bubbling emotional sensation that went with it. Especially from Sakaki. Haruto still had the liveliness and energy of youth, fresh and fun. It was something that Nycole often missed, especially in those dark days. They had strolled for hours, wandering Dublin, meandering about the city, joking all the way and trying to just have a good time.

It worked.

Sakaki found himself swinging like a child again, in the middle of a park, while Nycole swung beside him. They laughed and giggled, flopping down onto the local soccer field, into the soft, emerald grass. The pair danced the entire morning before realizing, as the sun grew warm and afternoon settled in.

Then, they returned to the flat.

Nycole put the key in the lock, pausing to look at Sakaki. "Y'know, this was fun. I think we needed this."

"I agree."

The empath turned the key and eased open the door, saying, "I think we…."

A wave of dark energy cascaded over Nycole, stopping the red head dead in her tracks. She froze, as shivers raced up and down her spine, trembling. Every last one of her coppery red hairs stood on end.

Robin's voice called out bitterly. "Where is Amon?"

But even Nycole had no answers.

xxxx

:sigh: 'nother day, 'nother chapter. FYI- Got my car back. Scweet!


	12. High Tide

IRISH HEART 

Arrows cut through the air. They were a flock of deadly, swooping, diving birds, with deadly beaks and claws. The entire group soared up, into the heavens, slashing into the very night its self and screaming across a blue, velvet sky encrusted with twinkling stars, like tiny diamonds. It was a black swarm of stinging, stabbing things, their heads glittering sharply.

Boudica watched. Her heart rose. Never before had so many arrows been loosed before at Dun Aengus. Every man, woman, and child strong enough to wield a bow fired off a quick bolt into the heavens, over the outer wall and towards the Romans. There were thousands of arrows in the air, flying towards their destination and the flesh of those invading pigs. The queen had never seen so many arrows. But, then again, she had never seen so many invaders coming to Dun Aengus.

The woman held her breath.

The arrows began their descend, plummeting to the ground towards the Romans and Praetori alike. Boudica watched with hope as they came down, down to those intruders upon the timeless lands of the Iceni.

The Roman generals called something in their strange, barking language.

Shields were raised in one, swift motion. Mairi gasped as those curved, metal and wooden things came up in waves, threading and overlapping like scales on a fish. They gleamed like the backs of beetles for one, shining moment before the arrows came down, finding their home in nothing more than shield. Nothing could penetrate those.

"No…." Boudica whispered.

The advance continued. The Romans moved together now, in unison, their shields bridged together to form one, massive cocoon around them. They were an impenetrable, unstoppable force.

Mairi drew another triple shot but held. "What do we do?"

Suddenly, a strange sort of sound came from across the moor. It was a sort of swooshing sound, short and soft. Boudica's eyes went wide and her mouth dropped as a slick return volley of arrows came from behind the advancing foot soldiers. Archers stayed where they stood, using massive crossbows to fling arrows across the moor. They were doomed.

"TAKE COVER!"

xxxx

Salty.

The air felt heavy, laden with thick, hot salt. But this was not a displeasing salt. No, this was warm and mellow, welcoming if such a thing could be. It was moist, damp from the sea. Amon stood there, allowing the scent to fill his nostrils as the rich air flooded his lungs like a refreshing steam.

This was so familiar.

Amon was on the right track. He knew he was. The ocean. The beach. There was something here, something the man needed to know. But, what? Amon wracked his brains trying to sort everything out, but it was still too fuzzy and unclear.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?"

He shouted the question to the sky, asking God, asking the heavens, asking anyone for the answer. It was as if some supreme force governed every aspect of his life. It was as if someone had crafted every moment, every subtle influencing factor to lead Amon to that point. The man felt duped. His mother snapped, became a witch. He became a hunter as a result. And, as a hunter, Amon found that rag tag band of witches, first heard of the Thirteen. It was as if every small factor led up to finding out who and what he was.

And, yet, Amon was still no closer to the truth.

"What?"

He sank to his knees in the sand, listening to the waves crashing and rolling on the beach. The sunlight almost blinded Amon. The hunter had never been a creature of the daytime, of life. He had always been nocturnal, always. The beach didn't suit him. It was sunny, and happy.

"Why?"

The man glanced across the way and found his answers.

"I see."

xxxx

They fled, ducking behind the turrets and anything they could find.

The Iceni were pinned down, as a rain of arrows felt from the sky. Screams pierced the night as the bolts of their enemies slammed down from the heavens and into the flesh of the Iceni. Mairi's eyes went wide as she watched so many fall under the onslaught.

"Mairi!"

Merric rushed to her, allowing his wings to unfurl and curved over his twin sister, protecting her, His arms wrapped around Mairi abruptly, almost harshly gripping her in a tight squeeze. Mairi caved into him, falling into his protective embrace. She held her own brother back as his muscles grew taunt, His teeth clenched, but Merric's lips still loosed a grunt or two as several bolts dropped from the sky and into his ebony feathers.

But, oh the screams. They were tormented, shrieking cries of pure agony. Mairi felt like crying, but she tried to purge those noises of suffering from her mind. She had to ignore them; the girl had to push on.

Merric slipped away from her.

Mairi watched in horror, a scream lodged in her throat, as Merric stood again. His wings, once glorious in their deep, rich ebony, where stained crimsoned from those bolts and arrows. Those silver and wooden bits jabbed out of his wings, jutting this way and that, studding his wings. Blood dripped right off of them, pooling at the young man's feet in a sickly, crimson puddle. The girl gaped, wanting to cry out, but completely unable to.

Merric tried to smile, forming instead an awkward grimace. "I told you…. We should have left while we have the chance."

"Merric…"

xxxx

"Where is Amon?"

Robin asked the question again, sterner this time, but calmer. The teenage Craft user was worried, dreadfully so, but the girl had every right to be. Nycole knew this. She had seen and tended to Amon's wounds. He was too weak to be wandering around, his injuries still too fresh, and Robin was fully aware of this fact.

The teenager shook, terrified for wherever the man had gone to, her mind formulating god awful scenarios again and again. Amon lay in a gutter somewhere, bleeding to death after ripping open his own stitches. Amon had been shot, mugged in some blind alley. Amon had been captured by Solomon and was slowly being tortured at the hands of Zaizen and his cronies. There were just so many gloomy and horrific possibilities for Robin's mind to fill in.

Nycole tried to calm her, reaching out with her own Craft and feeling the subtle tendrils of Robin's mind.

"I don't know." There was no other answer Nycole could give.

Robin blinked, startled. "No."

The empath shook her head glumly. "I'm sorry, Robin, but I honestly have no idea."

"He's looking for answers," Kristo piped up from his corner of the room. "He's gone to go figure out who he is."

Robin just stopped, as if unsure of what to say or do. "But…"

Right at that moment, the door swung open. Kristo leapt to his katana, ready for anything. The others drew up their Craft. Robin slipped her glasses onto her nose as the door to the flat opened. If it was to be a fight, this intruder had one hell of a battle coming. The shadow walker edged closer to the doorframe, grabbed the knob, and jerked inward, dragging the form behind it into the flat.

"Come in…."

xxxx

Their time had come.

In the life of every warrior, there is a moment when he or she has to find the courage to push on. Not the courage to fight, but the bravery needed to die. The first step into death is the hardest, but, once made, the warrior can never look back. Nothing mortal until death can touch he or she who makes that jump, that step.

Boudica stood proud, drawing forth both dagger and spear; she made her step.

There was no more sense to bows and arrows anymore, not with those shields of the Romans. There was no breaking through those shields with the fragile arrows of the Iceni. The heads and shafts just shattered, splintering on the shields of the Romans. Boudica had lost too many already to continue with such a desperate and foolish plan as to assault the invaders with arrows.

"STAND READY."

Mairi gasped. Even bloodied, the girl had never seen as splendid a sight as what was before her. The Thirteen. They stood atop the wall, ready for battle, their wings spread and fluttered out. The entire band seemed prepared and on edge. Their muscles quivered across the wings, like horses, primed for motion, for flight.

The leader, a tall fellow with soft, dusky white wings brandished his sword to the heavens, out over the wall. "We stand together!"

Boudica shouted. "I ask not for your blood, but for the blood of these intruders on our lands. " She looked to the men behind her. "I ask not for your lives, but I ask to you live these last moments of your life bravely. I call you to spill their blood, 'til it rains from the heavens and soaks the land of your ancestors in scarlet. For Iceni!"

A cheer arose from those few that remained, no more than a hundred men and women warriors from the once great empire at best; the leader for the Warriors screamed out to the sky, to the stars and moon, echoing the roaring multitudes. "FOR ICENI!"

They braced as the Romans bore down upon them.

Mairi held up her own dagger. "ICENI!"

Their time had come.

Merric stood close to his sister, feeling the heat rising from the two of them. "This is probably the end, sister."

"I know," Mairi breathed.

He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. "I shall see you in the next life."

"And I…. You."

Fate came down to Dun Aengus on swift wings.

xxxx

Was this a quick enough update for you, GoingCrazyNotKnowing? Hope you enjoyed. I keep forgetting to thank all my wonderful reviewers. It's you guys… and my own insanity that keeps me writing this piece.


	13. Loathe

IRISH HEART 

The ground quaked, and the earth trembled as those giant demons charged towards the great walls of Dun Aengus. Mairi took up her bow again, holding both the curving horn of the bow and her dagger in one hand. The girl took careful aim and let fly directly at one of the beasts. She shook her head in disbelief as the creature just kept moving. Mairi fired off another three shots, but the creature only seemed to grow more enraged, trumpeting louder, deafeningly so.

"Can nothing fall them?"

Boudica shook her head. "Don't waste your time with arrows."

"Gods…"

xxxx

A hand reached into the door in shock.

Kristo reached out, his own hand darting out to grab the wrist of the person entering. The shadow walker dragged the being into the flat, jerking the form sharply and suddenly into the house with a mild squeak of surprise. The man slammed the door shut behind the person, being sure to bolt the locks and put up the chain. He moved so swiftly that, in the blink of an eye, Kristo had returned to the form, hauling the person up and locking the intruder in a strong hold.

"What the hell?" a female voice growled angrily.

Nycole blinked, and, then, laughed. "Lauren!" She let out another chuckle. "Kristo, let her go. It's alright."

"I wasn't expecting this many guests to be staying here, Nycole," the intruder announced as she slipped from Kristo's hold, glaring teasingly at the empath. Lauren planted one hand on her hip and cocked her head to one side sarcastically.

Nycole threw out her arms and hugged the shorter, rounded woman in a warm embrace. Lauren had been off on a dig when the witches came to Ireland, studying some sort of archeological site in Germany. The archeologist had agreed to allow Nycole- and Nycole alone- to stay at her flat. However, Nycole had decided to interpret Lauren's answer in an entirely different manner, to include the entire little band of witches.

Nycole grimaced slightly, giving a slow shrug in chagrin. "I wasn't expecting you to be home so soon."

The pair had met a few times before, through Kathain. Lauren had actually stayed at their house in the States once or twice while traveling through for digs in America. Lauren and Kathain had gone to high school together, in what seemed like some lost and distant life in New Jersey. While the precognitive had chosen art school in the country, Lauren decided upon something an entirely different, abandoning her home in States and trekking across the ocean for Ireland. Better digs, the archeology student always said.

Lauren tossed down a dusty, dirty bag on the floor, looking tired and disheartened. "Yeah, well the dig didn't go quite as planned." She shrugged off her jacket. "Rained out all week." The archeologist slumped down on the couch beside Raven. "Stupid ocean weather. God, I could go for a beer."

"This is all well and good, but it isn't getting Amon back," Geoff hissed in Nycole's ear. "Have your reunion later. We need to figure out where he is, now."

Lauren seemed to sense the unease in everyone around her. "What?"

xxxx

The first of those terrible beasts were upon them. With one, powerful thrusting drive, that massive, lumbering, gray creature forced through the outermost wall of Dun Aengus. Boudica's heart fell as those centuries of old stone crumbled under the power of the Roman's elephant.

"FALL BACK!"

The next wall was stronger than the outer wall. It had stood for at least two or three hundred years longer than the perimeter. But they had to make it back to that safety first. It seemed an impossible task to retreat to the deeper portion of Dun Aengus.

Boudica turned, watching as the Thirteen fell back. They leapt down from the wall, despite its height, gliding slowly to the ground softly. It was as if those wings held them aloft long enough to cushion their landing. In a flash, the Thirteen were in motion. The Romans and Praetori alike were already pouring through the hole in the wall and into Dun Aengus. The Iceni capitol was falling into ruin, but the Thirteen held fast. They were whirled dervishes of ferocity and rage, pouring out their aggression upon these invaders and the betraying bastards of Praetori. Their blades cut true and swift, slashing through the soldiers. They moved with the shadow and flickering, orange light of the torches.

All save Merric.

He was busily trying to wrangle Mairi. The girl gritted her teeth, firing off arrow after arrow close range at their attackers from atop the perimeter wall. Merric tried to haul the girl back, tugging on the back of her shirt. But, just as the young Iceni man got her to move, another of those elephants slammed through the wall behind them.

They were cut off. Mairi, Merric, Boudica.

"What do we do now?" Mairi shouted over the commotion of battle and the trumpeting of those terrible beasts as they trampled about Dun Aengus.

"Pray and fight."

xxxx

'_Where am I going?'_

Amon stumbled about in the sunlight, unsure of himself, but trusting his feet. They carried him across the world on what seemed familiar trails, familiar paths and ways. This place. These scents. This feeling. It all looked like a memory from a distant dream.

And, yet, he'd never been there.

He had to know; he had to be sure. The former hunter had always relied on fact and truth, rational logic and reason. The man had been thrust into a world that made so sense, held no ration or fact. Amon craved to just hold something of fact right in his hands, to know and feel that everything he had been told was real.

The burning ache in his chest was real; Amon had to admit that.

But the hunter ignored it.

There were greater truths to be ascertained.

xxxx

Boudica watched in horror from her place, perched atop a turret, firing off arrows alongside the similarly sniping Mairi. Iceni was falling. The Romans and Praetori had finally breeched Dun Aengus, the last stronghold of their people and the seat of the once glorious Iceni empire. They had come for blood, for death, for the destruction of what was left of the native people. They had come to claim Boudica's house for the Romans.

The queen glanced over her shoulder, to the hundreds of thousands of attackers still swarming in from across the moor. It was a sea of people, of soldiers and hunters. Boudica needed to cut them off somehow, so they could deal with those who had managed to actually enter the fortress. The woman looked around, hunting for anything that could stave off the approaching tide of soldiers and attackers. She needed a damn, a moat, or ever a fence.

Boudica found a large, round, darkly burnished shape not too far away. A cauldron. And, to her utter delight, the fire still burnt brightly underneath it. Oil. A devilish smile spread across the woman's face.

"Mairi! Cover me!"

Merric spun his sister around by her shirt, dragging her back to Boudica's side. They moved together, inching back, towards the cauldron. Their queen led, followed by Merric, while Mairi sniped off each offending Roman and Praetori who dared attempt to follow. Those attackers had managed to climb to the top of the wall, hunting down Boudica, the ultimate prize in this conquest.

Mairi felt the arrows in her quiver dwindling down to nothing just as Boudica reached that boiling hot cauldron. "If ye had something planned, do it quick!"

The archer's fingers found the very last arrow to the quiver. She licked her lips, drawing back the bow and readying that final shot just as one of the Praetori approached. He walked, hunched down, beneath a wolf pelt, his eyes shining with glee. Mairi waited, steeling herself, as he skulked ever closer, stalking her. She drew a breath, holding the arrow, knowing that was her last shot.

Boudica scrambled to the cauldron, to the boiling hot oil. With a grunt, the queen slammed her shoulder into the scalding hot metal of the cauldron, feeling the singing, burning on her skin. She let out a scream, shoving the thing hard.

Mairi jumped, her last arrow flying free from the bow, and missing; the shot went wild.

The Praetori snickered. "Ah, pretty girl playing with dangerous toys."

"Stay back!"

Boudica pushed past the pain in her shoulder, the burning and stinging. She ignored the damage done to her flesh and forced the cauldron far over. The big, metal thing tipped finally, spilling out the contents down and into the pipes and tubes running within the perimeter wall. She could breath a sigh of tormented relief as the oil rushed through the wall, warming the stone beneath her and pouring out over the attackers. The queen grinned madly as the invaders screamed and shrieked in agony from the scalding hot oil being dumped down upon them.

The Praetori scoundrel drew close to Mairi, his voice growling menacingly at her. "Aw, such a precious little plaything."

Merric brandished his dagger.

"Ah, another toy," the bastard snarled.

Boudica stepped up onto one of the turrets, grabbing a torch and holding it over the invading sea of soldiers and hunters. She drew in a breath and whispered silent prayers to the ancient gods of the Aran Islands. Then, the queen let the burning brand slip through her fingers, falling through the air, through the dark and shadows. All eyes fell upon the flames as the torch fell; mouths dropped open in wide gapes.

The torch hit the ground, bouncing lightly and immediately igniting the oil. Dun Aengus burst into flames. The fires spread swiftly carried around the outer wall by the scalding hot oil. All those who had been burned by the oil were now engulfed in fire. They ran, flaming as they scurried about in confusion and haze.

Boudica smiled. "Deal with that."

xxxx

"What set him off?"

Brett asked the question, unsure of any other way to even attempt to find Amon. They had no other clue to figure out exactly where the man had gone to find his answers. They had to back track.

"I don't know," Nycole replied. "I was just telling him about Dun Aengus and Boudica."

"Dun Aengus?" Lauren called from the couch.

The empath nodded. "Yeah. Why?"

"You do know Dun Aengus still exists, right?"

xxxx

There it was.

Amon had finally come home. Dun Aengus. It stood before him, a once impressive site. It was now but a crumbling, decaying shell of its former glory. The walls had rotted away to almost nothingness, less than half the height they had once been. And the last remnants of life had been eaten away by the salt air of the sea.

Some tourists mingled about, not noticing the darkly clad man.

He darted deep, to the centermost ring of the fortress. At one time, that had been the very pinnacle of the civilization. Now, it was a pile of rocks and stones, deader than anything and as still as the grave. Dun Aengus had become a grave, a tomb to the thousands of Iceni who had perished within those walls over the years, even without including the many deaths from battle along the outer walls and perimeter.

And, somehow, it felt homey, despite the dilapidated state.

Amon hunkered down, settling in against a wall. The aching in his chest had grown worse, probably from the exertion it had taken to get to Dun Aengus. Yet, that mattered not to the former hunter.

Amon had finally come home to Dun Aengus.

Perhaps to die.

xxxx

Happy belated Easter. Merry belated Ostara. And happy Passover in advance. Signed- your random fic writer, Cyren


	14. Soul Brand

IRISH HEART 

"I am going to enjoy this."

Mairi stared, horrified, as the Praetori drew near. "Get back!"

The Praetori's grin only grew wider, toothy and devilish. Underneath that skinned wolf cap, that smile looked only more and more predatory by the moment. Those dark eyes glittered through the black, tar-like paint across the warrior's face. He seemed more and more like the creature atop his head with every step he took towards Mairi. Even that hunched, prowling stance seemed to echo the wild wolf, gray and shadowed.

This was a hunter, cruel and cunning in every way imaginable

He lunged towards Mairi, but Merric jumped in front of his sister, slashing through the air with his dagger. "Back, you godless son of a whore."

All of Merric's feathers stood on end, making those grand, ebony wings of his seem all the larger. They quivered and twitched, ready for action, for motion and flight, possibly. The young Iceni was a hawk, prepared to leap into flight and grab at his prey with razor sharp talons. And, surprisingly this invader didn't seem to care. It was as if winged men dropped from the sky every other day to this attacker of theirs. Merric tried to ignore the lack of concern, lack of fear in this dog's eyes. Instead, he let his emotions carry out, through hard beats of those wings, hard enough to loosen a bit of down.

The little puffs of black feathers floated between them, like some queer snow. They drifted this way and that across the air, blown away with each small downstroke of Merric's wings, and drawn back again. They were buoys on the tide.

"Leave her be," Merric ordered sternly, holding the point of his dagger out.

The Praetori only seemed to enjoy this more. He danced out of the way of Merric's gleaming blade, striking out with his own dagger. The Praetori circled Merric. Mairi clenched her hilt tighter, trying to find a good spot to jump in, to stab the traitor, but there didn't seem an open moment.

The Praetori smirked. "Let's dance."

xxxx

"What?"

Lauren shrugged. "What? Just figured you might want to know."

Nycole practically leapt over the couch at the archeologist, her heart jumping in her throat. "Really? Dun Aengus still exists? Where?"

"Aran Islands."

Geoff blinked. "Can you take us there?"

Lauren shrugged. "Buy me a round at the pub, and sure."

xxxx

"Bastard."

Merric jumped right at the Praetori, lunging towards the man. Merric had become a man driven mad. His wings fluffed out, stretching tall and large. Blood poured off those slickly, ebony feathers, splattering on the ground as the Iceni moved. He growled angrily, snarling like a wild beast. As he swung around, one of those massive wings knocked Mairi back and into a turret.

Boudica's hand shot out, grabbing Mairi and hauling her younger sister back, away from the combatants. The heat of the flames flushed the Iceni woman's skin. She jumped back, trying to get away from the fire. Her eyes caught sight of Boudica, burnt and singed, a ruined, battered form.

"Relax, sister. It is only I."

Mairi gave a quick nod. "We need to fall back."

"But, Merric…."

They turned their attention to the two fighting. It looked funny. They were caricatures of the animals the pair seemed to emulate. Merric tuck and dove, lashing out swiftly before recoiled, just as a hawk would. He moved with a cool, almost avian grace, as if held aloft by the breeze. Merric seemed suspended by a cushion of air, while his opponent stalker low and coolly, crunched down and hunching over the ground. The Praetori snapped at Merric from below, as a wolf would, sending the Warrior into jumps to avoid the gleaming blades of his enemy.

Merric leapt upon the Praetori, pouncing him. The traitor gritted his teeth as the Iceni brought his dagger down, towards his throat. The Praetori kicked, sending Merric over and rolling him swiftly. The Praetori threw down Merric's skull, cracking down on the stones and rocks of the wall. Mairi tried to jump to the traitor, but the Praetori just knocked her aside with nothing more than a swat. She fell back and away.

Merric shouted, bucking wildly and sending the Praetori rolling off of him. "Son of a…"

The Praetori just grinned coolly. "But you…. You are no different than I."

"What?" Mairi felt the word flop from her lips, falling before her as she tripped over the question that just needed to be asked.

Merric jumped upon him, thrusting his dagger out, towards the Praetori. They moved together with such grace, stabbing out and skittering just out of the way of each slashing strike. They were deadly serpents, snapping out at one another. They were dueling dragons or griffins, deadly and extreme. Mairi couldn't tell what to do; she wanted to run but found her feet would not allow it. She was frozen in place, transfixed by the Praetori bastard and her own twin.

"Merric!"

xxxx

"Mairi."

Amon could see it now, high atop the outer wall. He saw Dun Aengus for what it had been, ages ago, before the rise of Christianity and the fall of the Empire. The walls were tall, as tall as they had ever been. The flames burnt and flickered brightly, racing across the cool stone.

And, there, stood Merric, Mairi, and Boudica.

The three had been backed into a corner, driven into the center piece of a broken, shattered wall. Flames danced behind the three, forming a wall of sheer fire. Amon could even feel the heat cascading down from across the ages and the old stone. The hunter watched as the three drew close. Shadows swirled around, around Amon in the courtyard, and up the wall.

The three were trapped.

xxxx

A strike.

Mairi held her breath, ignoring the Praetori ascending the wall towards her, climbing to heaven, it seemed, with the dark wings of the Warrior. The cacophony dimmed for a moment, as everything slowed to a crawl. The girl's eyes went wide, staring out at her own brother as a quick splash of crimson fell upon the stone.

"Merric…"

He had been cut, but it was small and superficial. Merric gritted his teeth, ignoring the searing pangs, the hot and cold oath of steel slicing through flesh. It was funny. When blades cut through skin, they were not burning, nor frigid, but both. It was as if fire and ice condensed for one millisecond to slip through sinew and flesh, before melting away to nothingness again. In truth, it was the blood that offered the only real, concrete seeming feeling, hot and sticky as it trickled from the gash on Merric's arm.

It was just enough to set the man off.

Merric pounced, tackling the Praetori and holding his dagger to the intruder's throat. "Give me one reason to let you live. Just one."

"Because…."

xxxx

The moor yawned and spanned between the ancient, rocking point of Dun Aengus, still perched high stop those ocean cliffs after centuries of ruin.

Lauren had given impeccable directions from Dublin to a ferry across to the Aran Islands and to Dun Aengus. She should know. The archeologist had first visited the ruins shortly after moving to Ireland from New Jersey. The girl actually had organized a dig to the fortress a few months back, studying what was left from the last battle with the Romans.

They walked together, stalking the age old fortress, but stopped more than fifty meters away. For some, it felt like coming home for the first time in years. For others, their footsteps tolled death knolls in the field. And, yet, for all, it fell eerie and unnatural. The group stood together as a family, but never felt so alone as one of their missing siblings hid somewhere in the fortress.

They were family. They had always been. And one of their family was aching, in torment. That meant only one thing. They had to send in Nycole to help.

"Stay here," the empath ordered.

No one dared argue against her.

They watched as Nycole left them, moving across the fields silently. All the tourists had already left, long before the sun began to set, casting a bleeding, almost red light upon everything. The last few stragglers were already behind them, wandering back towards the ferry by their own time.

Nycole, however, walked in the opposite direction.

Somewhere in that fortress, Amon was hurting, and Nycole was the only one who could even hope to soothe him and bring the man back home.

Even though he'd finally gone home, in a way.

xxxx

Merric leaned close, pushing off the wolf skin cap, revealing the scarred face of a former Iceni. The swirling Triskellian curled over the man's right eye, before descending beneath the black face paint. He was marked; this man had been branded Praetori by the heat of fire and metal. And, yet, for how close Merric drew, for how much the Iceni pressed the blade into his enemy's throat, the Praetori just seemed to draw more entertainment and delight from this all.

"I asked you for a reason…." Merric demanded again.

The confusion and chaos of battle, the complete anarchy, faded away. The only things in the world were Merric and the man he held, pinned to the cold, clammy stone of Dun Aengus, wet with dew and the blood of many warriors, Merric included.

The Praetori grinned, his teeth stained in scarlet from his own blood. "Because, my friend…."

Mairi gasped. Friend? But the Praetori's voice dripped with thick sarcasm, as venomous as the deadly asp. No, Merric was true to the Iceni. He had always been so. Merric would never betray Boudica and turn to those Praetori scoundrels. The man had stood by his sisters against the Praetori.

The Praetori tried to sit up, pushing the blade into his own flesh with a terrible sound, but the bastard allowed those last words to pass his lips with his dying breath. "… You are one of us…."

And, with that, the Praetori hurled his body forward, with a crunch of cartilage on Merric's dagger. Their enemy grimaced a death smirk, as his body twitched out the last remnants of life and the Praetori shuffled loose this mortal coil. Merric drew his blade from the body, letting it fall limply to the ground with a sickening thud. But it didn't matter. The Praetori had done more damage than any incendiary, army, or elephant could do, with just those dying words.

Before Merric could recover, Mairi was upon him, tearing at the sleeve of his shirt, ripping it away. She gasped in horror and stepped back, to Boudica's side.

"So, there was one among us. A wolf walking with the lambs," the queen cooed.

Mairi shook her head. For, there, on Merric's arm, curled the twisting, terrible, black mark. The Triskellian curved and swirled on the young Iceni's pale forearm, an evil blotch on otherwise creamy skin. His sins burned a dark mark right down to Merric's corrupted, bastardized soul.

The soul of a traitor.

xxxx

Mmm… Merric's not what you thought he was, was he? Enjoy.


	15. Strawberry Fields

IRISH HEART 

Ancient spirits called to Sakaki.

They whispered in his ear, sang in dying breaths and chilling whispers. His blood ran cold, freezing in his veins and refusing to budge. There were so many, so many coolly calling, sweetly crooning voices, all clamoring for Haruto's attention. It started as secret, hissed words, before erupting in a dull roar of voices and snarls.

"So many deaths…." The man trailed off.

Brett kicked at a pebble out of boredom. "Yup."

Haruto could feel them, the hundreds of thousands of souls, all calling for his attention, all speaking to him in strange, foreign languages. One seemed vaguely familiar, from some long lost science class. Latin.

"What are they saying?" Geoff inquired curiously.

Sakaki closed his eyes slowly, breathing in deep and allowing the words to enter his ears. They were as smooth as honey, and just as sweet. It always felt so refreshing, so relaxing, to just let down his guard and almost welcome the secret languages and spoken words of the dead to pour into him. It took away the constant fight to ignore those barely audible voices of the long departed.

Here, on this field, they were louder. After many long years in the earth, these spirits were thankful to have someone to speak to. They were restless, stirred by something else.

"Some of them don't exactly appreciate Amon's presence," Sakaki stated simply.

Geoff shrugged. "Like spirits are always happy to see us coming?"

Haruto couldn't help but crack a smile before focusing in deeper, letting more and more of them come closer. It felt almost heavy there, as though the spirits tugged on Sakaki, urging him to listen to their individual voices and pleas. These ancient dead begged to be listened to, hungering for a bent ear to their cries and laments. They pleaded with him, yearning to be heard. The dead, after so many years, would give anything to just have someone to talk to, just like any other person.

And, yet, there were voices of longing. It seemed as thought these long forgotten dead of the Iceni were actually happy to see Brett, Geoff, Raven, Bear, and Kristo. They spoke in awed tones, shocked and amazed at the presence of the men. And some, some seemed to just want to sit back down with these strange fellows and casually relieve old days. It was odd, unusual and unsettling.

He furrowed his eyebrows. "They miss you…."

Geoff gave a sniff, shrugging his shoulders. "It's been a while." He looked to Kristo, a faint smirk spreading across the bartender's face. "Hasn't it?"

The shadow walker gave a heavy sigh. "Too long."

xxxx

"How could you?"

Mairi cried. Hot tears streamed down her face, but the girl ignored them. This betrayal cut too deep, too far, straight to the heart and to the bone. It rang in every inch and fiber of her body, sending trembles through her slender body. This stung at her, sending aches in her heart. It stank, vile and repulsive. Brother betraying blood.

She demanded an answer from him, any answer. "Tell me, you filthy bastard!"

Merric stepped back as Mairi gave an awkward swing of her dagger, fueled by rage and shock at her own twin. "Mairi, this is not what it seems."

"Then, what is it?" The girl screamed out, ignoring the battle swelling around them.

Her brother inched backwards again. "Mairi…"

"Do NOT call me by name as though we are still family!"

xxxx

"Amon…."

Nycole tiptoed through the grounds of Dun Aengus, searching. She treated this like a game. It was a game. A game of Hide and Seek, yes. And the empath was It. All she needed do was open her mind and take a quick peek to find him. Amon was hiding. IT was like when Nycole was little, or when she played with her younger cousins. All she had to go was cheat just a tiny bit to find her prey. Then, Nycole could play with him.

For a moment, the passing, glancing thought of just how wonderful a place Dun Aengus would be to actually play Hide and Seek or Manhunt in.

Nycole opened her third eye, her private eye, allowed every living thing around her to speak, and some not so living things. Ancient memories in cold stone spoke out to the empath, still hungry for their tale to be told. Somewhere, a mother rabbit was hiding, ducking in between the rocks, startled by Nycole's presence. Not too far from the hare, was Amon, crouched behind a decaying wall.

"I'm coming."

xxxx

They were yelling now, shouting at each other.

Amon watched with piqued interest, suddenly afraid for some reason he couldn't understand. Amon felt the pangs of Merric, the horror at Mairi's discovery. The former hunter could actually feel it. Why? He couldn't be sure.

But Boudica seemed to be joining the argument now.

xxxx

"Leave."

The word was a bitter snarl, a scathing order. Boudica demanded obeisance with every tiny bit of her body language. But that was only a momentary thing. She whirled around in a heartbeat to plunge her knife into a Roman who had dared scale her wall. The queen buried the dagger up to the hilt in the soldier's body before drawing it back and shoving the man hard from the wall, back onto his companions.

"Merric, get out of my sight, before I end you here and now."

He was heartbroken. "You do not understand. I did this for you, Mairi! I sold my soul for you, sister!"

Mairi blinked, shaking her head. "No. Do not put this on me."

"I did…." The Iceni man was pleading now, begging for his life. "The Romans…. They told me they would spare your life, if I gave them her…." He pointed to Boudica with his dagger tip. "I had to give them Boudica to save you, Mairi…"

The girl whipped around, all of the fire of their people burning behind her eyes. "Shut your mouth, you traitorous bastard."

"I did not think you would believe me." Merric's feigning of apology and horror melted away, leaving only sick and demented glee. "They told me you would not. They told me you would see through all of this."

Mairi gripped her dagger tighter. "We shall just end this now."

xxxx

"They hate him."

Kristo shook his head. "They would. They know him better than anyone else."

Sakaki blinked. He looked to the others, as they milled about. They seemed so quietly regretful, nudging at the ground and poking at pebbles here and there. Not a one really seemed to wish to speak on any of that. And, yet, the spirits, they spoke entire volumes in Sakaki's ears.

The former hunter shook his head. "Such sorrow."

xxxx

"Amon…. Oh Amon…"

Someone was singing the words, calling his name softly and sweetly, as thought playing some great game with him. The hunter tucked deeper into the wall, then, chastised himself for the childish action.

"I'm here," he responded.

Nycole's head peeked around the corner, looking to him curiously. "So, you found your way here, afterall."

Amon nodded. "Yeah…"

"So, what do you think?" the empath asked curiously.

"I hate this place."

xxxx

Merric just sidestepped out of the way, allowing his wings to fluff up and carry him to the side. Mairi cursed those terrible wings, always whisking her brother just out of the way of the sharply honed edge of her dagger. Between that, and his god awfully smug smile, Merric taunted her, teased his own sister.

"Oh, sister, you have be to faster than that."

Mairi clenched her jaw, knowing the truth. She had decided to pick a fight with one the Thirteen. Thus far, no one Mairi had ever known to go up against one of the Warriors had lived to tell the tale. In truth, the girl had never seen Merric lose to anyone. Not anyone. He was a skilled warrior, one of the Thirteen, and he could cheat. The man used his wings, his advantage against her. And Merric seemed to enjoy every moment of this.

She had to end this. The girl had to stop him. If Merric's corruption rang this deep, who knew how badly he had affected the other Thirteen?

Mairi turned and ran, but Merric followed.

Boudica lightly tossed Mairi a bow as she ran past, brother following. The queen returned right to the men who dared attack her. But Mairi kept right on running, flying through the air, the dark form of Merric close behind.

Her hand shot out, grabbing at three arrows jutting out of a dead Iceni. She worked swiftly to bridge the arrows through her fingers, lacing them together. Mairi drew back slightly as she ran, rushing towards the edge of the wall, what was left of the outer perimeter wall to Dun Aengus.

Their world was dying, and Mairi had nothing left to loose.

"MERRIC!"

The girl called the name as the edge came close, as if screaming out to the gods themselves, to the spirits, to the world, and to the night.

She leapt. The night seemed to reach out for her, as if swallowing the girl in shadow as Mairi gave of her life. The girl jerked her body to one side and whirling around. The girl quickly drew back and let loose. She closed her eyes as the arrows rushed through the air towards her former brother, the man she could no longer call family. The girl couldn't bear to watch the arrows actually pierce her brother's flesh.

She didn't even hear him call out her name. "MAIRI!"

xxxx

"She killed herself."

Amon whispered the words.

Nycole gave a slight nod. "Yeah. She did."

"Why?" The former hunter inquired, his eyebrows knit.

The empath shrugged, gazing out and over the expanse of shattered walls and broken dreams that had once been the most powerful empire in the British Isles. "She had to. She had no other choice."

"Merric killed her," Amon pointed out, not lifting his gaze.

Nycole nodded. "In a way."

"I killed her."

xxxx

….. I am a mean, mean fic writer.


	16. Sweeter than Poison

IRISH HEART 

"You HAVE to be kidding me."

Nycole practically burst out laughing at the statement. The empath hadn't heard anything so silly sounding in so long, especially not from Amon. And, yet, the logic jump had come from the normally so rational hunter. The man didn't seem as amused as she.

The empath knelt before him. "I'm sorry. It's just…."

"I'm Merric, aren't I?"

Nycole bit her lip. She hadn't wanted to be the one to tell any of the Thirteen who and what they were. That wasn't her job, her task to life. It wasn't her place. No, that task was reserved for others far different than she. It was merely Nycole's appointed place to recognize those who were of import and guide them down the correct paths to life, the universe, and everything. It wasn't the place of an empath to tell someone exactly what to do. Empaths were more like the psychic equivalent of a therapist.

Amon seemed so hurt, so ashamed of himself and of Merric. He just looked down, toying with the blades of grass around him. The man looked ready for a reprimanding.

"Answer me, Nycole," Amon breathed.

The girl chewed harder on her bottom lip, still avoiding the question for another moment, searching for the best answer.

"Nycole?" he asked.

"Yes. You are."

xxxx

"MAIRI!"

The scream tore from his chest, from his heart and soul as he watched Mairi tumble from the top of that wall, falling into the fire. And, yet, the flames welcomed her, wrapping around her body and taken her down into the pit. Before Merric could even comprehend what had happened, his sister was gone, wreathed in flame and engulfed, lost to the world, lost to Merric himself.

He hadn't meant it. He hadn't meant any of it. All Merric had wanted was peace. With Boudica out of the way, the Romans would just take control of Dun Aengus, of Iceni, and leave the Praetori in command. Merric could lead.

And Mairi would have been safe.

All Merric had to do was turn in Boudica and the rest of the Thirteen.

He could barely comprehend the loss of Mairi. In truth, if it weren't for the arrows jutting out from his chest, shoulder, and side, Merric wouldn't have been able to believe it either. Those hard shafts piercing his flesh were a harsh reminder of the truth that was what the man had just witnessed.

"Mairi…"

Boudica's voice called to him. "Merric, you bastard."

He turned to find the queen prowling him, now. "Boudica…"

"Your own twin. I cannot even begin to think of what is in your mind," she hissed venomously, crouching low to draw a spear from a fallen warrior. "Praetori…."

The word stung Merric, but it was the truth. He was no longer an Iceni. Merric had fallen to the ranks of the Praetori, allowing himself to be marked by their Triskellian. He had chosen to abandon his own people. The man had chosen to leave the Iceni, to leave their ancient traditions in favor of the invading Romans and turn his own queen in to them, surrendering his very honor and pride for them.

He turned and jumped, riding a pillow of air down to the courtyard on the interior side of the wall. Merric didn't want to fight Boudica. Not anymore. He had only wanted to see Mairi safe. And, now, with Mairi gone, swallowed by the fires of war, betrayal, and lies, it didn't matter anymore.

His wings carried his easily to the ground, gliding over the air lightly and holding him aloft. Merric's feet landed softly on the earth with a gentle landing. Those dark curses of his had finally come in handy.

But it wouldn't be that easy. Nothing could be. For as Merric tried to slink off into the night, the rest of the Thirteen seemed to amass and congeal before him, coming for nowhere. They stepped out from the battle with ease, as though there was nothing going on around them at all. The Warriors approached, weapons drawn, skin stained scarlet, and wings spread menacingly.

Their leader, with the dusky gray wings stood before Merric. "Stop."

Merric had no other choice.

xxxx

"Amon, you don't understand."

He shook his head, jumping up and stalking off, to the very center of the fortress, leaving Nycole alone. She just let out a sigh of exasperation, feeling rather annoyed and put off by the man. If only some people would just accept their destinies, their fates, and be done with the whole mess, life would have been so much simpler.

A wind whistled through the ruins of Dun Aengus.

Nycole ran her fingers through tossled hair and threw up her arms. "Damnit, Amon."

The empath followed.

xxxx

"I don't like this."

Robin paced uneasily. She didn't like this, didn't want to be a part of this anymore. No. Robin preferred the concept of living under a rock at the moment, hiding and biding out the rest of her life away from humanity. And the Craft user wanted to bring Amon with her, away from these terrible people and their vile destiny. The entire thing left a sour taste in the back of her mouth.

Somewhere, across that sea of waving, green grasses, was Amon, but it seemed like miles away at this point. The man could have been on the moon for all Robin cared. With the others skulking around as they were, Robin seriously doubted any of them would allow the teenage girl to interfere. Instead, the witch was forced to bide her time. The girl stared out, balefully, wishing that Amon and Nycole would just walk out from that stone-y rubble and everything would be alright again.

Somehow, Robin doubted everything would just be "alright" ever again.

Raven's voice met her from a patch of tall grasses, wavering and quivering under the breeze. "You know he's a grown man, right?"

"What?" she looked to the bald man, crouching and studying a blade of grass.

The runemal shrugged. "He's old enough to make his own decisions. He'll be ok." The man plucked at a wildflower, closing in the diminishing, afternoon glow. "Actually, he's one of the Thirteen. You don't have to mother him."

Robin blinked. She'd never been spoken to in such a way. The girl was taken back at the thought of mothering.

"I didn't realize…"

Raven tossed the flower aside with little care. "It's no biggie."

Robin glanced to the ruins of Dun Aengus. "What's it like?"

"What? Being one of the Thirteen?" the runemal inquired softly.

The girl nodded. "Yes…"

Raven sighed heavily, as if the weight of the world were upon him and the answer to that one, simple question. But, then again, the bald man had never truly thought hard about it. The words were elusive, difficult to pin point exactly.

"It's like having this big, huge family, all around you, at every moment and all the time… and being completely alone on the same token."

xxxx

"Merric, you have committed such sins…"

The Praetori grinned, knowing the sins, listing them within his own mind. Merric hurt at the thoughts his loss, at the death of Mairi. Still, the man wouldn't allow these Thirteen dogs to be so self righteous, so aloof over him. They were men after all.

That was the concept the Thirteen could just never get over. They believed themselves to be more than man, greater that Humanity. And, yet, they were nothing. The Thirteen were just as petty, just as flawed as the Iceni, the Praetori and the Romans. They were not special. They bickered and squabbled, fought and lusted. They were impure beings. And, yet, the Warriors so desperately wanted to trust in the gods and believe that they were blessed among all the creatures of the earth. Merric spat on that notion long ago.

And he spat again, as if to further prove his point.

The leader of the Thirteen, a tall fellow with long ebony hair, shook his head at the gesture. Merric must have been some sight. The Praetori stood, defiant until the very end, drenched in the blood of his enemies, his lips stained scarlet from his own. Arrows jutted from him. His wings were crumpled, battered forms, split by the many arrows of the Romans and the Praetori alike. Crimson poured from him in seemingly impossible droves. But, then again, it was impossible for Man to be a winged, avian creature, transient in form and being.

The head of the Thirteen billowed out his white wings, puffing them out, as if trying to increase his own size to intimidate Merric. "Bastard."

"What?" Merric blurted the work, obviously not impressed by the bravado. "Were you going to do something about it?"

The creature leapt upon him, but Merric didn't care.

This was the end of Dun Aengus. Merric had been sent there by the Praetori, by the Romans, carrying the false words and warnings to Mairi. He had been sent to bring the Iceni Empire low.

His work was almost done.

xxxx

She found him again, deep within the confines of Dun Aengus. At some point, ravens must have roosted in the old stone, for Amon held a single, black feather, loosely in his left hand. He stood so dangerously close to the cliff, feeling the winds of the ocean rustle over his body and through his very soul.

For a moment, Nycole worried. But, then again, Amon wasn't the kind of person to go and kill himself. She allowed her fears to drain away with the thundering tide below.

"Amon…"

He didn't look back. "How did you know?"

Nycole took a step towards him. "Amon?"

"How did you know to tell me that story?" the man demanded, not allowing the empath to come any closer.

Nycole looked away. "It's my job to."

"How does it end?"

Amon dropped the feather, letting it fall from his fingers to the ocean below. For a moment, Nycole was transfixed by it, mesmerized by the way the black thing drifted across the wind, carried as if by some unseen hand and unknown forces. It slid across the air before plummeting to the sea. Fallen.

"What does it matter? The ending's not as important as the story…" the girl whispered.

Amon refused to take that as an answer. "How does it end, Nycole?"

"You're a schmuck! That's how it ends!" She screamed across the whistling winds, lonely, howling calls of Dun Aengus and of ancient glory. "Happy now?"

The former hunter seemed barely moved by her sudden outburst of scathing sarcasm and annoyance. Yet, she could see the words had cut deep and straight to the core. Amon stretched slightly, ignoring the bitter comments of the empath. She could feel the effort it took the hunter to keep from turning right around and slapping her harshly across the cheek. However, Nycole knew just as much that Amon wasn't the suicidal type, that he would also never- NEVER- strike a woman.

Unless… she was a witch, which Nycole fit the description of rather nicely.

"How does it end?"

This time, Nycole had to answer.

xxxx

Le sigh. I am sad to see IRISH HEART coming to an end. But, like all great things, it must. Now, on the plus side, this means we're getting ever closer to figuring out what the Thirteen are. On the downside, I'm running out of things to name the next story. So…. Suggest something random and it might actually become a story title…. We'll call it a contest of sorts.

…. Good luck…. I guess…..


	17. Dream's End

IRISH HEART 

No mercy.

That was the way of the Thirteen. They were Warriors, true and true, loyal to Boudica without fail. The penalty for such betrayal as Merric's was always death. Death without mercy had to be handed down to the traitor.

Merric knew this.

He had known if from the very day he figured out exactly what he was.

The trouble with everything was that Merric never quite figured out what exactly the Thirteen were meant to do. Some divine hand had obviously crafted their kind, sculpting the avian form from the world. And, yet, the same divine hand merely plunked the Thirteen into the world. They were seemingly randomly deposited among the Iceni Empire, in the islands. They were meant to protect Iceni, weren't they?

Merric had never been sure.

Even as the Thirteen pounced him, the traitor could feel those questions coming back as his dark energies swirled and crawled behind his eyes. That power of his was loose within his own mind, begging to be used, urging Merric to put the Iceni to the death they deserved. It clawed at his mind, his very soul.

The leader of the Thirteen lunged directly upon Merric. His dusky, gray wings carried the warrior to Merric with excess energy and force, hurling the Praetori to the ground. Merric tumbled down with a harsh thud, but it didn't matter.

Even as the Thirteen drew their weapons, the world slammed to a grinding halt.

Merric's grey eyes went wide, feeling the very cosmos span before him as time bent to his will and fickle whim. The world stopped spinning for that agonizingly long moment. He could hear the heartbeat of the winged man above him. The blade of the leader of the Thirteen sang and rang, humming as it slowing dropped towards Merric. The young traitor could even see the sweep and vibration in the metal as the sword came down.

Merric shut his eyes, feeling the evil inside unfolding and unfurling, spreading from that deep, inner coil reaching. Those tendrils of darkness shot out.

But he just wanted it to be over.

xxxx

"So, I'm a betraying bastard?"

Nycole bit her lip harder. "No. You're not. Merric was."

"But I'm Merric?" Amon sounded confused, but he had yet to turn and face the empath who stood behind him.

The girl nodded. "You were."

"I am," Amon corrected.

Nycole just laughed, grabbing fistfuls of her red hair in frustration. "No, you WERE Merric. Merric's dead. You're Amon now. Merric's dead. You don't get to be Merric now. You get to be Amon." She let out a sigh of annoyance. "Just because you WERE Merric doesn't mean you still have to be him."

"I betrayed the Thirteen…" Amon whispered, still trapped in that notion.

Nycole just shrugged. "Well, if you really want to be Merric, we could just stab you now and save ourselves the trouble."

He didn't seemed pleased with that suggestion. "Nycole…"

"What?" the girl demanded. "What? Do you want me to feel bad for you because you were an asshole in another life… a life that occurred what? Two thousands years ago?" Amon didn't answer. "Oh no, poor baby found out he was a schmuck. WAS being the operative term, idiot."

Amon had never heard such annoyance and anger coming from the girl; it surprised him to say the very least. "Nycole…"

"No!" She held out a finger. "Y'know what? You don't get to feel shitty about this. That is a past life. You can't do anything about what happened then. But, y'know what? I you weren't too busy pouting in the corner, you'd see that you have the second chance to save Mairi, if you weren't too blind to see it!" Amon finally turned to her, a look of shock in his gray eyes. "You, Amon, have a chance. Not Merric. Not any semblance of a past life. The CURRENT you has a chance to redeem whatever piss-ass things you did in another lifetime. So suck it up, buttercup."

At any other moment, the spell would have been broken from that last word. It wasn't just the thought of Amon as "buttercup." No, it was the combined mental image of some web toon the girl had seen long ago. Kristo, Kathain, and Geoff had forced it upon her. RedVSBlue, some weird little show about Halo, with a gruff sergeant who would shout things like that. But it didn't matter. Her anger was too great, to the point where Amon could almost feel it, as though Nycole were radiating outwards to him.

Amon looked away. "I hadn't…."

"What?" Nycole fumed now. "What? You hadn't thought of it that way? You were too blind by your stupid, falsely placed guilt to think about anything other than your own self misery?" The empath had never felt so strongly about anything in her life. "You're one of the Thirteen now. And, y'know what, even if you don't give a damn about that, you SHOULD give a damn about Kathain."

That last one cut deep. Nycole didn't need her empath to know it. She could see the sharp pangs of regret flashing on Amon's face.

That didn't last long, as the girl's tears blurred her vision. "Yeah. What about Kathain? She gave her life for you, you callous son of a bitch. And all you can do is sit around and mope because you got dealt a shitty hand? Well, look around, Amon. We all got shitty hands. So, the best we can do is just pick up our shit and deal. Just deal."

Amon couldn't bear the sight of Nycole's tears, but the hunter didn't know exactly how to react, how to comfort the girl. "Nycole… I'm sorry."

"Damn straight, you're sorry," the girl snarled with smug satisfaction. "Now, what are you going to do about it?"

"I'm going to get Kathain back."

Nycole nodded, still crying slightly at the thought of her lost friend. "And, then?"

Amon sighed. "We'll figure that out after we get Kathain back."

The empath gave another nod as the former hunter brushed past her, a wave of darkness, desperation, and determination. Nycole felt herself grow lighter, almost happier and relieved. Her gloom lifted as Amon stalked off, a predatory creature with a renewed sense of truth and just cause. And Nycole's job, for the time being, was complete.

They could return to the others now, and get their Oracle back.

xxxx

Merric opened his eyes.

"No…"

He had wanted to end it, to end it all, but, not like this. The young Iceni looked around him and gasped. All around him lay the shattered and broken bodies of the Praetori, Romans, and Iceni. Not a single man, woman, or child moved. All were dead. All save Merric. He was the only one left.

His dark curse had lifted every last life of the Iceni from the face of the earth, save his corrupted blood.

"No…."

Merric looked to the sea of scattered, broken feathers around him.

His black feathers were mingled among them, swirling in tiny pools at the man's feet. The Thirteen were destroyed, just as dead as they had been before. They would not be again. Not like they were in this time. At least, that was what the Oracles had said. The Sisters Three told Merric he had to do this, he had to betray the Iceni and murder them. They promised Merris the Warriors would not exist again and that the battle would end swiftly.

The Oracles had told the truth.

Merric fell to his knees, unable to comprehend the death, unable to understand the simple sacrifice. But the Oracles had made very sure to guide him to this fate, to the death of his own sister, to the death of Iceni.

He let a call smash the dream that was the silence and quiet of the deathly still moors.

"MAIRI!"

xxxx

Short, yes, but the end.

See you next time, in the next story, TOUCHING GOD.


	18. Watching, Waiting

IRISH HEART 

Dawn.

The darkest hour always came just before dawn. It was when the night held the darkest, inkiest of blacks. The shadows were richer, deeper, denser. They were alive, crawling and squirming across the world. And, yet, in that sorrow of night, the predators reveled, finding joy in the twinkling of the stars.

"We found them. Right where you said they would be."

That loathsome congratulations.

She hated it. She hated being told that her tips lead to the right moment, to the right location in the universe. She hated being what she was, knowing the past for every minute detail. It wasn't for her to know, and, yet, she did.

Her eyes gazed out, watching them dig.

They were overjoyed at the discovery, clutching the chests to their bodies with warm embraces. They whooped and shouted with joy and pure happiness. They were so happy, so overwhelmed at the find. She could feel their eagerness, their bubbly energy screaming out the pure elation. And, yet, the girl could share in none of that; her place wasn't to be a part of the fan fare and jubilation.

She strayed to the far outskirts.

The dig had taken too long, far too long. They should have found the chests long ago, after only a few days there, not a few weeks. The dig stretched on for what seemed like months, when she knew it was only three and a half weeks.

The lanterns burnt brightly around them, like the glittering stars of the sky.

She stared out as crate after crate were cracked open. It was like Christmas down there, as presents were doled out and unwrapped with squeals of delight. But nothing down there was truly for her. It was all for the Warriors.

"Sierra!"

Her name, carried across the air with a harsh call.

The girl turned, glancing down the hill to the dig pit as the others had paused in their opening and excitement. She stumbled down, climbing down and into the pit, feeling excitement and anxiety rising within. There seemed to be some sort of veil of surprise and fear among those in the deep of the earth, silent reverence to whatever they had found in the cold earth.

A box was placed before her, materializing from nowhere in seemed, produced by the many hands around her.

"What is it?"

The crate was eased open, presenting a long, curving bow of horn, still strung taunt after all these years in the ground.

Her hand reached out, touching the thing hesitantly, feeling the immense age of the thing oozing out, creeping towards her and over her hands. "It's so… interesting." It was the only word she could find for it. "It's not ours."

"Then who's is it?"

The girl shrugged slightly, placing the bow back down. "The other Thirteen."

xxxx

Oh nos… Wrench #847.


End file.
